I admit it.
I would rather exchange texts with you than talk to you on the phone.
It’s not because I don’t care about you. (I’m not singling anybody out here. Just using the plural “you”.)
It’s just that texting is to the point and extremely efficient.
And I can do it while I’m using the bathroom, yelling at my children, doing laundry, cooking dinner or getting a pedicure.
And you’ll never be the wiser.
My family likes to text too.
My son sometimes texts me in the morning, on the way to school, to tell me something that he forgot to do, like brush his teeth. (I know. Gross.) And when he gets off the bus in the afternoon. Not because I ask him to but because he wants to.
My daughter texts me while she’s in class to ask me if her friend can come home with her. Or to to ask me to drop something off at school that she forgot at home. Like homework. (Texting while at school is obviously a big NO. She’ll learn the hard way when the teacher takes it away from her and she gets a detention.)
My ex-husband sends me a text to get information about the kids’ afterschool activities. Like when a game is scheduled to be played (even though he gets the same emails from the coaches) or to let me know he’s going to be late picking up the kids from my house.
And texting is the primary way my husband and I keep in touch.
If he’s at work, I know he’s probably elbow deep in food prep or talking with a customer or in the back doing some paperwork. But if something is in my head, something that I really want to tell him, I’ll just send him a text. He can read it when he has time. And I can cross that thought off my mental list, which is extremely long. Always.
He texts me when I’m at work to ask if I need anything from the Restaurant Depot, like a big bag of kale, or to let me know if he has to work late or is going out with the boys. Usually, it’s food related.
Sometimes, if it’s Date Night and my kids are with their father, I’ll text my husband from upstairs and ask him to bring me a cocktail. Or, yes, I’ll sext him and order him to come up and service me. (He likes it when I boss him around if it has to do with sex.) It is more of a turn-on than yelling downstairs, “Hey babe. Come on up and let’s do it.”
But truthfully, the majority of the texts that I send to him are just at random times of the day, when I’m thinking about him and just want to tell him that I love him.
Because who wouldn’t want to see that. Unless, of course, it comes from your stalker.
I don’t have the world’s most nimble fingers. I can’t count the number of times I type “live you” to my husband instead of “love u”. But I guess live you is true as well. I do live him. Every single day.
And, as he likes to remind me, I am the Luckiest Woman Alive (LWA).