“Richard Wright. The telephone. Have you two met?”
The above quote is one of my favourite lines from Sex & the City. There was Samantha, sitting by the phone waiting for her boyfriend to show up or at least call to explain his whereabouts. Not to sound as if I’m 82, but kids today can’t relate to the ridiculous power the telephone held. Just a straight up telephone. Not a smartphone, not FaceTime. Just a phone with a handle and buttons you pushed or a dial that you circled around and around.
You dialed the phone number of the object of your affection.
Sometimes you hung up immediately in a panic. Sometimes their parents or roommate answered. (Or, in my case once the girlfriend he said he had broken up with answered with a hint of sass in her voice that made you want to punch her.) Sometimes you got the answering machine…. beeeeeeeep. Silence. You tried to calm down the sudden increase in your heartbeat. You left a message.
And then you hung up and judged yourself for the quality of the message you left. I left horrible messages! I still remember one message I left for a guy I had JUST seen and said my full name after my “hello”. Why did I do that? Did I think he was sleeping with a plethora of other Kelly’s? But that message held weight. The leaving a message for a person your heart desired had power. The quality could make or break a call-back. Now? Now, you have to do sit ups and leg lifts so the “selfie” or picture of your ass that you send the person your heart (or libido) desires is worthy of their attention.
So, hence my surprise when a fellow I met online recently asked we chat on the phone before meeting! We’re talking on the phone?! My excitement level hit 10. I may have briefly envisioned what our wedding would be like. Nevertheless, he called and we had a great chat… and we met that afternoon for our date.
And we clicked, we had people smiling at us! I wanted to tell everyone at the coffee shop we were in This guy telephoned me this morning! It brought back a good feeling, what can I say? So we make plans for our second date. And the next morning, a Monday I should point out, he asked if I was up so he could call me. It was 10:30am. Having just finished my workout, I skipped around my apartment with glee! My phone was not making the sound it makes when I get a text… it was ringing!!
I answered. I took a breath and tried to calm down my heartbeat.
He told me had been doing some thinking.
This was moving too quickly. (Things were moving too quickly?! We had coffee!) There wouldn’t be a 2nd date. However… if I just wanted to meet up now and then to have sex he’d love to see me again.
I quickly scrambled to think of words that weren’t fuck, asshole or fucking asshole as I ended my break-up-wake-up call.
And then I gave him my best impression of a dial tone.