Have you heard? People are dating! The economy must be improving, because boys and girls are getting together and trying insertion games with one another. So says CNN (via Judy McGuire at The Frisky). The news website ran a syndicated column this weekend about what different text messages mean when you’re dating. Personally, I had no idea about this new craze. SMS is just another newfangled technology I can’t be bothered to understand. Eh, who am I kidding. I’m in on it. I send short messages to friends and on my phone all the time. I wish I didn’t — especially when I’m reminded that my parents know how to do it, too — but I’m hip to the trend. That said, the combination of mobile messages and dating has been rather volatile in my life. Luckily I’ve got Judy McGuire to straighten things out for me. She’s so good at that; I totally don’t care that all of her articles only cite women she knows as sources. It’s not like a guy’s point-of-view matters to a relationship column!

I’m sure you all remember this Adventures In Dating saga (Part 2 can be found here). It ended with an accidental text message and a case of the no pussy blues for your dear old pal, Evan. After that incident, I realized that I needed to change the way I contacted girls I dated. Without having a print-out of every text message I’ve sent since that night, I can state with a pretty high degree of certainty that I have not asked a girl out via SMS. The first time I asked Nicci out I called her at work. She said yes then “forgot” and “made other plans” when I called the day-of to confirm. Before her, I can think of at least three other girls back home and in LA that I called to ask out. It seems a bit more formal, sure, but girls these days are so used to lazy guys writing “UR HOT” on their social networking profiles or sending dumb text messages after exchanging numbers that a phone call is a huge first step towards vaginal contact. Most of the women Judy McGuire knows agree that a little effort goes a long way. She doesn’t cite any men who agree, but if she asked me I would say, “Sure, Judy. Using a phone for its intended purpose is way better than using it as a keyboard. Ask your sources to compare how many times they’ve had their backs blown out by male callers versus male texters, and your article will write itself.”

Emoticons. The bane of my existence. Going back to June 25th of this year (that’s how far back my phone goes), the ratio of girls who used smiley faces to guys is 4:1. Four girls actually typed out a smiley face to me in a message. Only one guy has…and it was me…and it was this morning, to Nicci. My excuse is that I had this blog entry on my mind. Any male who types a smiley face into his phone with the intent of being anything other than ironic immediately calls his sexuality into question. It’s not a bad thing, it’s just not something that should ever be done when you’re trying to get in a chick’s pants. Unless you’re drawing a picture of a penis (YOUR penis) entering a vagina (HER vagina), and it is made clear that the rendering depicts the two of you in flagrante delicto, there is no excuse for a boy to type a symbol to a girl.

Flirting. All of Judy’s female friends agree that flirting via text message is healthy. That’s probably because they are ugly, and overly-appreciative of attention from males. In reality, flirting via text is only okay sometimes. For example — and I have to admit I’m out of practice as I haven’t had to send a flirtatious message to a girl in almost two years — the aforementioned penis-in-vagina drawing is always good. At the very least It will elicit a laugh. And now is as good a time as any to tell you that a girl who takes the time to send a message that says “hahaha” is a girl you can pretty much fuck whenever you please. What flirty texts also do (other than tell a girl you’re going to be inside her soon) is send magical invisible signals to her brain that convince her to flirt back. Why? I don’t know, because that’s how sex works, I guess. You both get it on your mind and before you know it you’ve banged-out and are you’re trying to convince her that next time you’ll last longer than four pumps. Be aware that flirting is sometimes not okay. For example, don’t flirt with a girl you met at a bar last weekend just because you can’t remember her that well. If you can’t remember, it means she was a 5, tops. Once I found myself in a day-long text affair with a girl. I think we sent something like 400 messages back and forth over the course of a few hours. The whole time I was trying to get a picture of her because I forgot who the hell she was. When she finally consented, I realized why I hadn’t gone home with her the night we met. She was horrifying. She’d make a great Halloween costume. She was that foul. So yeah, don’t flirt with girls you don’t remember meeting. Eventually you’ll have to answer the “Where’d you go?” and “Why don’t you write back anymore” messages with the horrible truth: “You made my penis contemplate suicide.”

I don’t think I have to address break-ups via text message because that doesn’t really happen. Right? That’s just in movies and on television? People are smarter than that? If not, then God help us.

“Sexting.” I could write an entire week’s worth of blog entries about my sexting experiences. All of them blunders. And what’s with the “sexting” moniker, anyway? Can’t we just call it what it is: Cellular Cyber Sex? Trust me, a lot more people would be ashamed of the things they type (or pictures they send) if they had to face the stigma of being compared to mid-90s middle schoolers on America Online. Sending naked pictures of yourself to someone you’ve just started seeing is an invitation to have it reused and redistributed. Every non-girlfriend that sent me a picture of herself was seen by my friends. That’s just part of being a bachelor. Once a girl I was seeing sent me a series of photos of her pleasuring herself. She asked me to send her a picture of my cock as a reward. I’d never done that before (because I knew better…I knew myself), but I was wasted so I consented. I grew tired of the girl soon after, but I made sure to stick around long enough to go to one of her parties, find her phone, and remove all evidence of myself from the phone. I even deleted my number from her list of contacts. Then I stopped seeing her. I’m an asshole. But, a smart asshole. That’s all I have to say about “sexting”. Don’t do it. It will only end in embarrassment or tears (her tears, never yours so long as you’re happy with your penis).

Is there anything else to share on the subject of text messaging? No. In fact, my response to CNN’s article could have been much shorter. I could have trimmed it to one paragraph. I could have cut it to five sentences. Call a girl to ask her out on a date. Flirt as much as you want, but never type a smiley face. Always type/draw your penis so she knows what she’s in for. Don’t send actual pictures of your penis. Save all photos of her vagina for purposes of incrimination or drunk laughs with your boys. And that, my dear readers, is the male perspective on “Texting and your love life.”

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