An adult discovers the pitfalls of texting.
For awhile I had a fabulous text life, at least with two of the guys I have dated this year. First C, then Bass. C was mild. It was my first real experience, but Bass...well, I'm still dealing with the aftermath. It's no fun to get the bill when you aren't even on speaking terms with the guilty party.
The conversation with Bass went like this:
Bass: You have Verizon, right?
Savvy: Yes. We can be Verizon buddies!
Bass: So I figure that means we can text unlimited to each other.
Savvy: We can talk unlimited, too!
Bass: But we can text unlimited, right?
Oh, crap. No. It only means you can talk unlimited, not text. My bill showed 700 text messages. 700!!! Holy moley! I knew we were texting alot, but I underestimated just how much. 700. That doesn't even include last month's texting. I'm sure that was at least 200. That was when I first met him. I had said to a friend that he texted me about 400 times, but if I were to include last month's bill, it might be as much as 500 times. He was a faster and more frequent texter than I ever was.
When we talked on the phone, we ended up talking for an hour. No charge. He wanted to text me. Maybe he got a high bill off that, too. 900 text messages back and forth in a month. Wow. Seriously. No wonder I felt such a profound and deafening silence when we stopped dating.
Of course there was texting in the new billing period that had nothing to do with Bass. I was at a dinner, texting a friend under the table when my dad told me I was being rude. Then I cuddled up to him with my head on his shoulder. Sorry Daddy. Have I told you lately that I love you? He chuckled. I could text left-handed behind his back with my head resting on his shoulder facing backwards and one arm around him. He asked me to pass a bottle of red wine. I was mid-text ended up knocking over a full wine glass and breaking it. The table cloth turned purple. Oops! My little habit was discovered. That has to be the worst, though once I went to the bathroom to text someone when I was on a date with a guy. He had just told me how proud he was of not having a cell phone. Talk about a technological mismatch!
I'm putting myself on restriction. I'm swearing off text. I feel like I have to be my own mom to my own inner teenager.