I still remember my first text. I was diligently sitting through a girlfriend’s choir practice, and I was bored. I decided to use her cell phone to text my buddy Ed to tell him how “I have been thinking about you for months”, “My passions are so strong I can’t sleep at night” and how “In my heart of hearts, I know you are the man for me”. Maybe with a few months of texting practice I could have pulled off this prank. However:

a) the text was the length of a novella

b) the rules of grammar and capitalization were strictly adhered to

c) I “signed” my name at the end of the text… also it took me 30 minutes to write. Damn you, T9.

   I soon learned these are three of the many Cardinal Sins of texting; instead of achieving a hilarious awkwardness between my friends, I was rewarded for my efforts by getting ripped on for weeks.

   Several pulled finger muscles later, I am now a confident player in the texting realm. My style at times comes off as short, and I imagine this is because I am unfortunately rather utilitarian when it comes to cell phones.

   Not having yet grasped the subtle nuances of inserting lols and smiley faces into my messages, I am a far cry from the cellular Romeo I should be. I’m still waiting for handwritten letters and homing pigeons to come back into vogue… until then, I will be stuck in the cold, endless void of texts, forever unromantically pawing away at my phone’s mini-keyboard.

   Late night texting is another area where I need some help. First of all, if you ever get a text from me that reads “yo what up” or “where the party @?”, it may be in your best interest not to respond at all - I most likely have had a few too many pops for the night.

   Likewise, please don’t be offended if after a few after dark messages sent back and forth I strangely don’t text you for a few hours… and then try to pick up the conversation with illegible musings at three in the morning. This means I went to a club.

   You see, while I’ve changed many aspects of my life to accommodate a cell phone, I still have a lot of trouble when it comes to texting and dancing. After quite a few years of partying sans phone, plus my added laissez-faire after a few rum and colas, I often forget I have it once I pay cover.

   Those problems aside, I am a fairly competent texter. I’ve grown a lot since my ill-fated first text to Ed: I’m clear, I’m concise and I know not to sign my name at the end of the message. I even let the capitals go sometimes.

Late night button mashing.