The Art of Flirtexting

A wise woman once said, "We date, therefore we text." And I, a longtime opponent of texting, have come to realize just how true that is, and if I want children, I'm going to have to let go of my old-fashioned ways and accept texting as a means of communication. And while I'm still not completely entrenched in the texting society, I engaged in quite a bit of flirtexting last night, with big assists from Scarlet and a bottle of wine.

Yes, that's right. Scarlet is visiting this weekend, and we were doing it up Bridget-style; polishing off a bottle of wine on my porch while bashing fuckwits. After the wine took effect, I whipped out my phone and texted John Boy, who is out of town for the weekend. I told him about the giant bugs invading our porch, like something out of a horror movie. He offered to come over (next week) and kill the bugs. I told him I might have to make out with him if he did. He said to consider them killed. Then he asked if Scarlet and I were having a good time, and I told him we were discussing the merits of men with beards and the hazards of men with stubble, which is what we were, in fact, discussing. It will be interesting to see what kind of facial hair he has the next time I see him.

And as I am in some desperate need of some quality lip action, I am fervantly hoping that it is NOT stubble.