(Sorry, it’s not about sexting. But close.)
This morning, I went downstairs to get my coffee. I checked my email while it was brewing. I saw that the kids’ school will be performing an opera while my in-laws are here in a few weeks. I sent them an email, and copied Whit on it. Then I went upstairs.
He was awake and checking his Blackberry. It buzzed as I walked in. He read the message, then looked at me getting in bed next to him, and said, “Couldn’t you have just told me that?”
Um, no. I would have forgotten by the time I walked upstairs. And yes, I know the office is at the bottom of the stairs and the bedroom is at the top, so it’s not that it’s a long commute. And it’s not because I have early-onset Alzheimer’s. It’s because my mind is a constantly scrolling ticker tape of to-dos and to-says and to-think-abouts. Something more important would have edged it out of my mind after all those stairs.
So anyway, I started to realize that Whit and I communicate electronically a lot. In part, this is because he is constantly in meetings and on conference calls and can return a quiet text much more easily than engage in a long telephone conversation. (Or so he tells me. He also tells me I am chatty. Hmmm.)
Also in part, because it’s easy and fast and to the point. It’s a virtual real-time conversation.
But I am noticing we do it A LOT. On any given weekday, there are 20 - 25 texts between us. Most very mundane – “Need anything at the store?” “Can you please pick up the dry cleaning?” “How is soccer going?” Sometimes it’s downright goofy. Saturday mornings, as I’m making breakfast with the kids and Whit is supposedly sleeping, I’ll get a text: “What are you guys doing?” I get hole-by-hole updates on his golf games (particularly if he's playing well). My favorite text to get during the witching hour: “Want me to stop and get some wine on the way home?” He knows when we’re at tennis lessons or I’m running into Target. I know when he’s off to a lunch meeting or leaving the office. He can tell me (citizen’s arrest!! No texting while driving!!) when he’s turning into our neighborhood so I can let Jack stay up for five minutes. It really is how we keep in touch when we’re apart.
Now, when gets home, we sit together and talk about our day – every night. Face to face, just like people did it last century. But this texting and emailing is a way to bond in this century, and it works. I feel pretty connected to him, all day long.
Sometimes that damn autocorrect gets me, though. The other day he asked me a question and I quickly answered that I was at “body pimp.” I meant a body pump class – I hope he understood. Oh, and last week I tried to text, “Duck over spring break?” That “D” got replaced (and, yes, sadly, the f-word is in my Droid dictionary) and, before I noticed, I hit send.
Oh. That’s why he was so enthusiastic about a beach vacation in North Carolina.