Modern love

I sat and watched them, these two young lovers still warm from the first blushes of love.

I watched them exchange knowing glances.  I watched them laugh at each other's jokes. I watched them share their affection for one another for all to see. And they never said a word.

But they did type a few.

He sat in one chair.  She sat in another. Each had a computer on their lap.  And they both knew how to use it.

Acquaintances for -- well, ever -- they only became an official couple in June.  But they've been dating for several months more than that.

If you want to call it that.

He was in one state. She was in another. They texted. They called. They video-chatted.

Youngsters today.  They have it sooooo easy.  And they don't even know it.

Texting.  Skyping. Cell phones. Email. Twitter. Facebook. Blogs.  There's no excuse anymore.

It just isn't fair.

My daughter and her friends will grow up with no idea what it's like to lock themselves in the house for a night (or a week), waiting for him to call.  They'll never know the pain of having to go out for just one minute (or to that college class, or to the bathroom, or to the kitchen for food) only to miss it.


Or that feeling in the pit of your stomach (and your heart) when you realize he never will (even though he said he would, dammit!)


They may never even have to endure the dreaded Dad-Answered-The-Phone-And-I'm-About-To-Die moments in life. Or having your brother answer and tell him (just because he can), "She's out." 

Everybody has their own phone these days, even my 10-year-old (although hers is always lost or the battery is always dead.)


And those long, awkward silences and deep breathing exercises we used to endure because neither of us wanted to hang up (because he finally called), but neither of us really had anything to say either?  Filled now with texts messages. Or YouTube links.

Me? I grew up with my phone hooked to the wall.  In the kitchen.

I didn't get an answering machine until I was a freshman in high school.

My first cell phone came in a big, black pleather bag.

I didn't send an email until I was in my 30s.  A text in my 40s. 

So now I'm left to only wonder what kind of life might I have led if I had grown up with gadgets. I can only imagine what it must be like to not have to stay home (or locked in my dorm room with my I-Have-To-Study roommate) to wait for him to call.

What it must be like for a guy to have no excuse not to call...
(Lost my number my ass!)

Of course, my generation never had to face finding that other girl's number in his phone.  Or those photos. Or that video!!! 

And we never uttered the words, "text me, baby."

Nor would I want to.

Hey, at least we didn't have to put on makeup and comb our hair just to talk to a boy. We didn't have web cams back in the day. No one ever caught me at my computer just getting out of the shower, or in my pajamas, or on Saturday morning.

Nor would they want to.

And my mother didn't have Skype.

But she does now.

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