I’m sitting in a restaurant and feeling incredibly anxious. I need to check my Facebook messages, my Twitter account and the mostly rude comments on Women24’s Violet Online page.
But I can’t. I’m out with my date and we both said how much we hated technology.
It would be rude, and I hate being rude.
So, my phone is in my handbag and we’re actually talking. We haven’t been interrupted by a beep once. And it’s nice. He has my undivided attention. I have his.
But I haven't updated my Facebook for about three hours now and my ‘fans’ will be waiting. I gotta do it. I excuse myself and my handbag and I head to the ‘ladies’. I lean against the bathroom wall and take out my phone.
STATUS: Can’t wait for my date to go to the loo so I can check my Facebook.
As I’m making a wee, I get 4 likes. Not bad, I wouldn't mind keeping an eye on it. Reluctantly I put my phone away, head back to the table and look into my date’s eyes. They’re a very dark brown. Smouldering. Nice.
We have dessert, and then we go back to my place. Coffee, you know.
He suggests I open a bottle of wine instead of coffee. I pass him the corkscrew and tell him I’m just going to check my mails while he opens the bottle. I have to check them, I explain, it could be work.
I open my laptop. I have 12 new emails, 14 Facebook notifications and my Twitter is going nuts. I don't dare check Women24 because that means getting into an argument. I quickly reply to a few Facebook posts, update my Twitter - 'On a Date and he’s gorgeous, worthy of more than 140 char…,’ and go back to the lounge.
He’s sitting patiently, on the couch, wine in hand, no phone or computer in sight. He’s really nice. We chat, we snuggle, and as we do, we kiss. But I have a dilemma. I’d promised my girlfriends that if the date went well I would let them know just how well.
One smiley face - if he was nice.
Two smiley faces - if we kissed.
Three smiley faces - if we had sex.
Four - if the sex was brilliant.
I had to sneak out and send a message. One smiley face. So far, so good.
When I came back I noticed he was on his phone, typing a message. He was possibly sending someone a smiley face too. But he quickly put it back in his pocket when I came into the room.
‘Violet’, he said. ‘I’d love to spend the night with you. The whole night’.
In the past, he’s always left after ‘coffee’. He’d had to get home to his children or his dogs or his cat, an early morning meeting, some excuse. I never really minded.
‘Okay’, I said. ‘I’d like that too’.
And so he spent the night. It was really nice and hey, we’re good together. So, we had sex and we chatted and we held each other a bit, and then - he went to sleep. He pulled up the covers and went to sleep.
How do men do that, I thought? I can never just go to sleep. I lay there, going nuts.
When he was in the deepest of sleeps, I crept out the bed and fetched my laptop, then climbed back in next to him. I quietly opened it. Sent four smiley faces to my girlfriends. Read my mails. Checked my Facebook. Smiled at my 32 likes. Updated my twitter. Wrote this blog.
And then I could sleep.