Voulez-Vous Texter Avec Moi Ce Soir?

This cute sexy blog, A Tall Glass of Vino, gives you the lowdown on the delicious technology of texting -- it's all about lust:

Think of the bygone days --the age of the Hollywood Western--where lovers waited months, years - sometimes lifetimes - to get news from their loved ones. When faithful love had to endure never knowing how (or even where) the other was, and when word DID arrive, it was already seriously past tense.

Now, we have email. Cellphones. Text messaging. Uninterrupted connectivity that allows us to trade thoughts instantaniously with a few clicks of the fingertips. Advances in technology that would absolutely astound a time traveler from the era of the Pony Express. Heck, my own father used to marvel at what we now see as pretty basic resources: the color TV, the personal computer. He grew up in rural North Dakota, listening to radio shows around the fireplace, with snow building up 5 feet high against the farmhouse. He had a Hamm radio, became an engineer and architect, and had a fascination with new gadgets. I am definately his daughter.

However, I am a divided supporter of advancing technology. I love it - all the ways it makes our lives easier, puts information at our fingertips, opens up a cache of international resources. I can search online for the latest in product information, instantly compare it with several competitor products, and order it for overnight delivery to my door. And I do. A lot.

What all this highly efficient technology also does is put incredible pressure on our lives. Pressure to use all the available efficiencies and thereby, be tremendously more - efficient. I'm constantly struggling against ridiculously pared down production budgets on my projects at work - because, after all, with all these productivity tools at my avail, we should all be blinking out fabulously streamlined products, right? It's true to a certain extent--I myself marvel at how quickly the framework of a new project can be assembled to APPEAR so close to a final, viable solution, while still in the schematic stage.

But that's about work. Fodder for another post. Back to my original thought. Back to those distance divided lovers anxiously awaiting word from each other. Back to ME. My current romantic interest is across the country from me - and while we're far from being classified as lovers, that's definately the direction we're headed in. Thanks to technology.

Thank goodness for all those productivity tools at work, because I've squandered quite a bit of time today trading cute, then witty, then flirtatious text messages with Mr. Anderson. I've described to him my lack of auditory privacy at the office, and in lieu of me stepping into the conference or product sample room for a cell-to-cell conversation that is at the mercy of every wayward pidgen's flight path (can you hear me now? how about NOW?) we've turned to the TM. It's short, it's sweet, and it's a relatively discreet real-time vehicle for lust.

Oh yes, you've read that right. Lust. It didn't start out that way, of course, but by day's end, the muted beep of my cellphone - signifying the receipt of another text message - was elliciting a Pavlovian response SOMEWHAT different from the textbook definition. Uh hem.