Consider this a Public Service Announcement. I’ve become recently afflicted with a rapidly spreading syndrome called Blackberry Balls. It is passed on to women of a phone-bearing age by men of a certain attention-seeking type. The male will have an unprotected and frequent textual exchange with the female and, most likely, multiple partners at the same time. Despite the abuse of the female’s text control plan, the male will not set up any concrete IRL meeting. And through this draining of SMS credit, the female will find herself stricken with a frustrating case of B.B.B.
I don’t understand how this happens. Knowing how busy I am during the day, I would assume that the guy has at least an equal amount of things to get done in the usual 24. Aren’t the hours spent stroking the cell phone keys without release a huge exasperating time suck for them too? To these guys, I’d recommend downloading Angry Birds. At least that way, you’ll be earning some points while you’re wasting your time.
I think this new development is in part due to our instant gratification and mobile culture. My phone is always with me. I even sleep next to the darn thing! How am I supposed to appear aloof and mysterious when I am always accessible? It’s like playing hide-and-seek with a tracking device strapped to your ring finger.
This constant barrage of strictly textual intercourse must be some sort of male payback for every Just The Tip. Did they have a Dude Council meeting over Jameson and Madden back at the Man Cave to decide womankind’s dating foul penalty? If so, they’ve nailed it on the head. It’s killing us.
I once knew a guy who doled out cases of Blackberry Balls so frequently that the tracker ball on his phone had to be replaced at least five times during our fauxlationship. I have literally never heard of this happening to any other phone! And, trust me, when Friday would roll up and he had not asked me to dinner, my texting finger would just lie limply on the keyboard like an unwanted kitten. When he would text me at 8 p.m. to see what my plans were for the night and not follow through with a meetup plan, I would nearly lose my eyesight.
It’s a tease and not in the sexy kind of way. What do you even get out of it? All that energy isn’t resulting in any booty for you either! It’s kind of like a flasher who just wants you to see it, think about it, and be mentally scared by it, but not actually touch anything. Fellas, take it easy on us chicas and S.O.S.M.S.