Oh heyyy, you wanna come over?

Jane Austen once posited, rather brilliantly for her time, that it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. These days, the only truth, universally acknowledged, is that a single man in possession of a texting device is in want of a booty call. This is the only justification I can see for the rather stilted use of that age old means of communication: the phone call. Romance, many women are positing, is DOA.

The other day at a formal birthday dinner for 30, a few tablemates found themselves discussing the matter in further depth.

"I find that email banter can be very terribly sexy," the gentleman to my left, a charming British banker argued. “Even more so than a phone call.”

"Oh of course you do," I acknowledged. “You’re English, and therefore amongst the 1% of men possessing of actual wit. It works to your advantage!”

A hapless young woman stopped picking at her grilled vegetables and spoke up. “Personally I’m weary of its overuse… I dated someone who so rarely communicated by anything except his blackberry that the first time he called I didn't even recognize his voice.”

Everyone laughed knowingly.

"No no no no," the darling swan across the table argued rather seriously. "Email and text messages are ridiculous! If a guy wants to contact me, he has to call. And even then I screen him just to make sure he's serious." Needless to say, the gentleman who had just seconds prior acquired her number turned a delightful shade of plum.

As it is wont to do amongst people with little attention span or regard for anything beside their Dover sole, the conversation flitted on to other topics, only to arise 2 days later over Maker’s Marks and French fries at the W. It being our rather learned assumption that text messaging allowed men a channel for their social awkwardness, we decided it might be fun to compare some recent worst offenders. Although everything, dear readers, is fun where Makers is involved, at times I was legitimately confused as to whether I should laugh or cry. I implore you to be the judge of my proper reaction to the evidence.

The offenders, in due form.

1) Sent 10 p.m.

“:-("

In response to a (declined) invitation to the movies by on-again off-again now on-again 33 YEAR OLD bf. 33. I have no words….....Actually to hell with it, yes I do. Do you know how utterly absurd it is for a man to use emoticons to convey serious disappointment (as opposed to jokey disappointment, which I employ all the time), let alone make it the sole focus of the message?? Grow a pair and tell us how you really feel, there’s a reason we’re dating someone nearly 10 years our senior and it has to do with your previously proven ability to pick up the phone (not to mention your preference of sex over south park). This is the text message equivalent of that goddamn ASPCA commercial with Sara Mclachlan singing “in the armmmms of an angel” while sad puppies implore you to adopt them- it makes me feel vaguely guilty, but mostly I just want to change the channel and forget it ever existed.


2) Sent 2 a.m.

“?”

From a friend with whom there was a rather awkward make out session 4 months ago and who has been trying to relive that disaster in judgement ever since. What the fuck does this even mean?

3) Sent 3:00 a.m

“Boo”

OMG I nearly jumped out of my seat! You’re so good at scaring me, you clever booty call you. It’s as though you were right behind me and yelled it!

For your sake, I hope there was more to that message, like “hoo, I have the communication skills of an ape.”


………………………………………..

No further comment, your honour.