At first I thought it was cute. I don't really "do" text messaging much and I loved the little "bleep bloop" sound my phone made after our first date. I liked the sense that there was a little "word present" waiting for me. He always had something romantic to say. Sometimes a bit scandalous. I didn't even like deleting these little gifts.

Oh yes, it was serenely romantic at first. We had met at a club one night and hit it off splendidly. The night ended with a hot kiss and talk in the near future. The next morning I awoke to my first bleep bloop.

"I can't wait to see you again. Been thinking about you all morning."

The next day. Bleep bloop.

"You have the softest skin. When is our next meeting?"

I wrestled with the little buttons, new to this whole game.

"Friday nite. Call and let's set something up."

At this point, while I loved this new text connection, I figured we were ready to move to the next level...a proper and simple phonecall.

The next day. Bleep bloop.

"Friday sounds delicious. Where should we meet? What should we do? Where do you live?"

Okay, that's 3 questions. It took me 5 minutes to type out the previous 8 word response about Friday night. Sheesh. Again, I fuddled with the keypad and gave him the pertinent info and suggestions - though I must confess, each letter was making me a little more annoyed and distant.

Friday. Our big night. No more little buttons, no more "send" buttons, no more bleep bloop. It was time for the real deal - human connection. Flesh! 3-D female dancing cheek to cheek with 3-D man! I was ready for pure, hot analog, baby.

Bleep Bloop. "Sorry. Something came up. Can't make it. Let's "talk" tomorrow."

My response? Ice cream and red wine. My response to him? Nothing.

Saturday. Bleep bloop. "I look forward to meeting you soon. When can we meet? You smell really nice, btw.

My response:

Sorry. Wrong number.