These kids today, I tell ya.
When I was 16 and I fought with my boyfriend – which was, like, a lot – I’d go out with my girlfriends, and hope that maybe we’d meet up at some point with the guys and he could see how much fun I was having without him, or apologize or whatever. The second best outcome would be that I’d come home to find a message from him on my machine. (Kids? Do you even know what a “machine” is?)
Usually, neither would happen, and I’d have to call him. Punk.
So I’m having lunch last week (on a school day) and there’s a group of girls at a nearby table. A cell phone rings (as if cell phones ever actually “ring” anymore) and one of the girls steps outside to answer it. Distraught, she returns to her friends.
“What did he say?” they all ask.
As she begins to recount, the phone sings again. Disquieted, she takes the phone outside again. She’s like, having a girls’ lunch out and fighting with her boyfriend at the same time.
Dunno, I think maybe my generation had it better. At least when I was out with my girlfriends, I could entertain the fantasy that he’d called. Nowadays, I’d be checking my phone non-stop to see if he’d texted or called. (Actually, I did exactly that as far back as seven years ago.)
Good thing Rob and I don’t fight much (or rather, he rarely gets mad, and if he does, it doesn’t last very long), because he doesn’t have a cell phone and is therefore incapable of texting me his apologies.