Story about an SMS

Story about an SMS

At last! We crossed virtual borders nowadays. After bold flirtation, confessions carefully dosed and discussions of all kinds, we will meet “in town”. No, it's not about any social site. Nor any of “.com”, nor any of “.net”, nor of anything else. It is only with streets, buildings and some of the green spaces. Do you remember?

Maybe chemistry will occur in the real plan also.

After I exchange two, three luxury dresses and toss for the suitable pair of shoes, I decide to still remain in jeans and gym shoes. I obviously dress a T-shirt too... It's a bit premature to adopt a topless outfit (if I still think about it, I wonder if after the date we will reach there or emotions in the stomach will prove only a antipathetic loss of time).

We meet at the place we established before, we recognize each other easily and we smile each other. Not bad at all!, I tell to myself. In fact, he looks even better than in the pictures, and I could see myself waking in the morning next to his generous biceps. God, what thoughts do I have...!?

Let's see, however if I also give him the maximum grade at in chapter “conversation”. 

The silence present when we go to the coffee shop, makes me understand something else. What would have happened with his humor, savior of important moments from our virtual meetings? It seems that without the keyboard, it is much more difficult to be activated...

We enter the crowded coffee shop, where everyone keys altogether their smartphones, laptops or tablets of next-generation. An atmosphere already familiar, I tell to myself, from now on maybe we'll feel a little more in our element. However, the evening has barely started, so I prefer to still keep intact my optimism. 

I take a deep breath, preparing to display an encouraging smile on my face. I find myself, though, with an unexpected SMS, that I discreetly open and read surprised. The text says: “Are you OK?”, and the sender indicates no more and no less than him, the one who smiles proudly at the other end of the table (not at all far), really satisfied of the idea he had.

I try to say something, how else, but the man stops me, making me various signs to reply the same way. By SMS, then.

I conform myself tacitly, swallowing my words shortly and I scrabble a short message that I send with a suggestive pantomime. Insufficient, though, for he still continues the game, understanding nothing of my non-verbal language, filled with lots of discontent.

Though we are face to face, we must hide in the back of a tiny device, refusing to communicate like normal people, at a normal date in an as normal coffee shop. He is the only one who, it seems, enjoys the irony, in fact, he is quite happy about it. 

I insist, therefore, not to quite understand the imagined charm of this game (if I knew that's the way things would have gone done, I would have preferred to stay at home... it would have been pretty much the same thing). He leads the discussion in all sorts of odd corners whose meaning leaves me cold, for in the end to ask me, serenely and impatiently, to his personal residence for a more thorough knowledge of our thoughts and bodies.

While I stop my impulse to punch him with the phone over his face, I answer him in writing, of course, that it prickles my restless senses much more if we did it here and now, in the shelter of text messages, without curtain, just good to propel us in the world of unbounded ecstasy. And just when I was preparing, being sure on his confused and out of place reaction, to taste triumphant this final victory over the ignorant who thinks that a relationship can be based only on SMS, noticing how the man in front of me comes into his senses and sends me a new message: You're right. It would be sooooo exciting! Can you make a picture with your phone under the table?