Showing posts with label texting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label texting. Show all posts
Monday, November 23, 2009
Your Telling The Truth
Grammar is going from bad to worse. A student friend of mine got a B on a recent papre because while the content was an A the grammar was a C. Bad grammar can be grating to thus of us with good grammar. But I shouldn't cast stones. My grammar, when correct, is pretty instinctive, not conscious. I do what looks or sounds right and I probably get about an A- level of correctness. Which was my overall high school GPA. Nowadays, if one grows up texting and IM-ing, where speed and brevity trump grammar, and in an age when computers correct spelling, it's no wonder. But I think I'm old-school enough I prefer "your" and "you're" to be used in the traditional way rather than "your" for both.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Textually Active
My roommate got invited out on a "date" tonight via text. I put the word date in quotes because, depending on your standards and how you count it, it might not, possibly be a date.
Women say things like this because we believe somewhere out there there is a tribunal that decides what counts as a date and what doesn't. And whether or not something is a date MATTERS. Sometimes, nowadays, dates are difficult to have an accurate ruling on. It takes deliberation. And then the decision is written into a very impressive, large, leather-bound book next to your name.
Because, classically, a date would be a phone call or a face-to-face ask, followed by dinner or drinks, for which the man pays. This is the minimum, bare bones classic.
But what if it is intitiated via text? What if it becomes "meeting up"? These are what tribunals are created for. Because texting can be totally fine and friendly, or a little wussy. Like, are you afraid to call? Afraid of the awkwardness? Afraid of rejection? Or do you want to give the impression that it's "no big deal?"
And meeting up can be good, at the beginning. No pressure. Public place. Casual.
But both of these, especially when repeated, become not-so-good to really bad. And then, you'll find yourself heading out of your apartment on something less than a date. Not worth the trouble of shaving the legs, or the time it took to get ready.
It's 11pm, and she isn't home, so I am thinking it was datey enough tonight that she stayed out. Or she made the best of a mediocre situation. Time will tell. This is why roommate stay up writing blogs, so that they can hear the story when the roommate comes home.
Women love stories.
UPDATE: IT WAS A DATE. (She just walked in the door)
Women say things like this because we believe somewhere out there there is a tribunal that decides what counts as a date and what doesn't. And whether or not something is a date MATTERS. Sometimes, nowadays, dates are difficult to have an accurate ruling on. It takes deliberation. And then the decision is written into a very impressive, large, leather-bound book next to your name.
Because, classically, a date would be a phone call or a face-to-face ask, followed by dinner or drinks, for which the man pays. This is the minimum, bare bones classic.
But what if it is intitiated via text? What if it becomes "meeting up"? These are what tribunals are created for. Because texting can be totally fine and friendly, or a little wussy. Like, are you afraid to call? Afraid of the awkwardness? Afraid of rejection? Or do you want to give the impression that it's "no big deal?"
And meeting up can be good, at the beginning. No pressure. Public place. Casual.
But both of these, especially when repeated, become not-so-good to really bad. And then, you'll find yourself heading out of your apartment on something less than a date. Not worth the trouble of shaving the legs, or the time it took to get ready.
It's 11pm, and she isn't home, so I am thinking it was datey enough tonight that she stayed out. Or she made the best of a mediocre situation. Time will tell. This is why roommate stay up writing blogs, so that they can hear the story when the roommate comes home.
Women love stories.
UPDATE: IT WAS A DATE. (She just walked in the door)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)