I view email and texting as forms of drunken sex.
Drunken sex is the sex you would have if your sober sense of self would let you let loose. Whether it's trying a new position or a new partner, drunken sex opens up a world of possibilities, thanks to too many vodkas. When you're 3 sheets to the wind, who cares if your panties are revolving on the ceiling fan of some stranger's bedroom? It's when the deed is done, and he's passed out that the sober sense of self goes "Holy shit! What the hell is that?!" and you tiptoe out as quietly and quickly as possible. If need be, sacrificing your underwear in the process.
When it comes to email - and especially texting - it's much too easy to let loose. Fingers go wild on the keyboard when the glow of the screen is all you can see. That glow is the cyberspace equivalent of too many vodkas. Hurtful words are easier typed than said. Propositions and profanity flow more freely. And it's only when you hear the "click" of the send button that you think "Holy shit!" and wish you didn't need to leave behind your nice red lace panties.
Too bad drunken sex ends up a hazy memory and hard drives are forever.
Drunken sex is the sex you would have if your sober sense of self would let you let loose. Whether it's trying a new position or a new partner, drunken sex opens up a world of possibilities, thanks to too many vodkas. When you're 3 sheets to the wind, who cares if your panties are revolving on the ceiling fan of some stranger's bedroom? It's when the deed is done, and he's passed out that the sober sense of self goes "Holy shit! What the hell is that?!" and you tiptoe out as quietly and quickly as possible. If need be, sacrificing your underwear in the process.
When it comes to email - and especially texting - it's much too easy to let loose. Fingers go wild on the keyboard when the glow of the screen is all you can see. That glow is the cyberspace equivalent of too many vodkas. Hurtful words are easier typed than said. Propositions and profanity flow more freely. And it's only when you hear the "click" of the send button that you think "Holy shit!" and wish you didn't need to leave behind your nice red lace panties.
Too bad drunken sex ends up a hazy memory and hard drives are forever.
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