use your words

It's a less-than-little-known fact that I'm kind of a ball buster. I live to give people a hard time. Especially boys. About nearly anything. I'm loud and brash and commanding and whether or not I'm in YOUR face, I'm in somebody's face and I'm probably lecturing them about grammar or music or how whatever word they've just used actually does not mean what they think it means.

I'm intimidating. I GET IT. It's part of my charm? Maybe?

This aspect of my sparkling personality absolutely has scared boys away in the past, but in recent years I've managed to get enough of a handle on it that I don't always function as my own cock-blocker. So now, a guy might actually approach me. Talk to me. Hit on me. Even flirt with me. But you know what he probably won't do?

Ask me out on a date.

And why should he, when he can wait until 3 in the morning and send me a well-composed Facebook message?

Y'all, it occurred to me today that every single time I've ever been propositioned asked out on a date, it's been, well, digital. Perhaps it's just further proof that I'm an analog girl in a digital world, but this irks me. (Of course, in this case, "digital" means a lovely, painstakingly composed e-mail, and "analog" means summoning up the massive stones it apparently takes to say "Want to get a drink some time?" live and in person.)

We talk about the impact of technology ad nauseum, and the dating world certainly has not been excused from the discussion. But mostly we focus on steps further down the line, like the DTR and the FBO and the public, dirty Facebook divorce complete with half-naked blackmail photos. But what about the first move? Even text messaging has changed the way we think about it, and I should know -- the reason I'm even waxing on all this shit is that last night around 2 in the a.m. hours, I received a text message asking me out on a date.

In this case, the circumstances are such that we weren't likely to run into each other any time soon, and though I suppose he could've called instead of texting, a.) I'd prefer he did not do that at said hour; and b.) There was a fair amount of alcohol augmenting the testicular fortitude. Now, as to your natural next question: why was I randomly on his mind while he was drunk on a Tuesday night? I do not have an answer for that. Other than, maybe, I'm magic? It has been suggested in the past.

And with all my talk of balls and the need to grow a pair of them (I've not been one to shy away from the first move in the past), I will also point out the opposing argument: technology has vastly increased general comfort with move-making, firsts and otherwise. I'm sure there are plenty of people who'd never be able to gather the courage to ask those questions in person, no matter how many beverages they imbibed. For them, the text or Facebook message (or Twitter DM, lest I forget) is a godsend.

But really, I'm firmly in the camp that everyone needs to be forced to do some stuff that makes them uncomfortable from time to time. And if that's asking a girl out for a drink? Open your mouth and do it. I won't say "the worst that can happen is she says no," because I think we all know that's just not true. But I can almost guarantee you won't die. Almost.

I'm interested to know what you think on this. Technology and the passive first move: good thing or bad thing?

And as for that late-night missive, I suppose I'll just use the incident as the beginnings of a board game I'm developing. It's like Clue, for twenty-somethings.

Mr. Bartender. At two in the morning. With the drunk text.


cheers,
elizabeth