If you suck at texting, you suck at life.
I’m not a text Nazi, but I’m pretty sure I speak for everybody when I say that it’s not difficult to (a) operate a keypad, and (b) make use of the gift from the grammar gods known as punctuation. That is to say, it’s not difficult when you’re an educated, socially cognisant human being with half a brain.
If you’re socially challenged and lack a brain? It’s cool. But we’re probably not going to be friends, let alone bang. Therefore, I’d like to share a friendly and informative letter I’ve composed to the next guy I have anything to do with.
Dear next guy applying to be involved in my life,
Hi! How are you? Tall, dark, handsome and working on those abs? Great, let’s continue.
I’m writing to give you a friendly heads up: if you suck at texting, you’re telling me you suck at life. Please note that I’m only telling you this because I’m a nice person, and would therefore like to give you the best possible chances of scoring a run or two on the board with me. Let me break it down for you with a sample scenario. We’ll call it Friday morning, and I’ve sent you the following text: “Hey, are you missing a phone charger? I think you left it here, I’ll bring it tonight.”
Now, over to you. Choose your own adventure. Please acknowledge and accept the way I’ll judge you based on your choice.
- “Yep.” = you’re lazy with a predilection to become dismissive.
- “Yep” (note the lack of punctuation) = as above, but you probably also carry the obesity gene.
- “Yeah lol” = serious strike. One more teenage fangirl acronym and you’re officially emasculated.
- “Thanx lol :)” = see you never.
- “Yes………” = you clearly had more to say but couldn’t spit it out. No confidence, and likely a dud root.
- “Yes. See u soon……….!!! :)” = as above, plus you may also be a stalker.
- “Yep. see u later” = your smart phone’s auto-caps feature is smarter than you are. You clearly deleted something before the “see u later”, and are horrendous at playing it cool.
- “Hey. Yep, that’s mine. Thanks heaps, see you soon.” = bam. Congratulations.
Okay, guy. Which one are you? Number eight, you say? No happy smiley’s, no punctuation abuse for dramatic effect, no bullshit? High five, you’re getting laid tonight.
Things you should know: Emoticons and multiple exclamation marks are for use between females to fluff each other up, full sentences are your friend, and I am not your sister.
We’re not even going to cover the issue of petty spelling errors and confusing “your” with “you’re”. If you don’t have those downpat, stop taking selfies of your abs and download a grammar app. Text me again when you’ve got your shit together.
By the way, we’re assuming here that you’re not working towards a degree in quantum physics. I accept that some of you are right-brained creatures. If your maths or science achievements are beyond spectacular, you may also be excused. But save yourself the embarrassment and don’t even bother dicking around with the alphabet. Pick up the phone and call me instead.
An exception to the above arises when my relationship with you is such that I’ll happily release a fart in your presence. At that point, I acknowledge that I’ve implicitly excused you from flawless text etiquette.
Okay, get back on the treadmill. And don’t forget to floss regularly; a full set of teeth tends to score points.
Originally published on…