Over and Out

What is it with men and telephones? They INVENTED them, after all? When Alexander Graham Bell first revolutionized our modern way of communication, do you think that he heard the collective *groan* of men all around the world agonizing in the knowledge that they would now have to *phone* their wives and let them know where they were going to be?! Gasp! Probably not, but the more advanced we are getting with our wireless phones, Blackberries, text messages, emails, iphones and what-have-yous, the harder it seems to get a hold of one another. It is now easier than ever to keep in touch, so why is it that our communication skills have deteriorated so drastically? And why are men still so bloody hard to get a hold of?! The answer of course is because they want it that way. Oh sure, NASA can communicate with astronauts in SPACE, but I can’t even get in touch with a guy who lives across town.

First, there was someone who we shall call CRAYZMOND, who had no phone when I first met him. If I was lucky, I would get intermittent calls from him when he had the inclination to walk the several blocks required to use the pay phone (yes, they still have those—they’re right next to the horse and buggy shops.) And that was when he was in town. If he was out of town, I had some cryptic, creepy sequence of beeps from some hotel in the middle of nowhere, from which I may or may not get a reply. Maybe, I was leaving secret messages for the aliens.

Then there was the lawyer, who had a Blackberry, but gave me a cock-and-bull story about not being able to receive incoming calls on it (?!) and so I had to wait around until he deigned to contact me. Finally, I got his email address and could email him on his Blackberry and he would call or email me back. Feh. Too much work! Here’s how it should go: I pick up my phone, I dial seven digits. You answer. The end.

Now there’s the Hottie whose number—since Monday—has been ‘temporarily out of service.’ Hm. Now I am giving him the benefit of the doubt—as I always do—that perhaps his phone has been lost or stolen. Fine. But you know, it’s just the last straw in a very long line of shaky reeds. If men want to keep in contact with you, you'll know. There is no shifty or suspicious behaviour. It just makes me trust them even less than I already do. I have a home number and a cell number. If I am not home, there is an answering machine where you can leave me a message. I will call you back. All of my family and my friends also have these new fangled ‘phones’ and ‘answering machines’—even my parents, who knew Graham Bell personally! So what it all amounts to is that shyster men—despite the ease of communication which technology is supposed to be affording us—have found new and inventive ways to avoid us and be A PAIN IN MY ASS!

So, maybe from now on, I should tear a page from the book of man: if you want to get in touch with me, you can use morse code, telepathy or my personal favourite, the Ouija Board.

10-4 Good buddies,
k.