Suzanne Portnoy

Last night, feeling a little vulnerable and alot pre-menstrual, I decided to call an ex. It was 8pm and he lives in India. No matter. He’s a single guy and I figured he probably would be up looking at porn or listening to music. He always was a night owl anyway. Actually, I didn’t really care if I woke him up. I just wanted to talk to him.

We had a short-lived relationship but, similar to the weekend guy, there was a lot of build-up in my head as we had met many years before. And, similar to the weekend guy, he was tall and slim and quite charming. And, similar to the weekend guy, he was really crap at communication. He just hardly ever rang me but when we got together it was always fun, relaxing and great. Hence the reason why we’re still friends. We’ll always be friends. He was easy to be around and I liked that about him although the crap communication thing just did my head in after a while. (That, along with the fact we didn’t fuck near as often enough as I would have liked).

‘Hey sweetheart,’ he said when he picked up the phone.

‘I didn’t wake you up,’ I said. ‘Did I?’

‘No, not really,’ he said. ‘Well, kind of,’ he said and laughed. You gotta love an ex that doesn’t scream at you when you know you’ve woken them up.

‘Listen, can I ask you a personal question?’ I said.

‘Oh God,’ he said.

‘When we were going out and you were just really crap at keeping in touch with me. Well, was it because you just thought I didn’t really give you a shit about you as you knew that I had slept around or was it because you’re just really crap at keeping in touch with people. Is that why you hardly ever rang me?’

‘Well, he said,’ laughing again. ‘Maybe it’s because I knew I’d never get a word in edgeways….’

I laughed. ‘Fair point.’

‘Actually,’ he said. ‘I’m just a really crap at communication. With everyone. I think all my other ex- girlfriends would say that about me.’

‘Is that why you never can hold down a permanent relationship?’ I said.

‘Yeh, probably,’ he replied. ‘I’m crap at communicating with everyone. You know that, sweetheart.’

‘Wow,’ I said. ‘Thanks. That makes me a feel a lot better. Because I’ve met this guy and he just reminds me so much of you but I realise he’s not you. But I think he’s just rubbish at communicating and now that I know that you’re just rubbish at communicating too, well, I feel a lot better. How’s India?’

‘Good,’ he said and then he told me about a website he thought I would like called SavitaBhabhi and I wrote it down. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘Lovely to talk to you. I’ll be back in a few weeks. See you then.’

‘Great,’ I said. ‘And thanks. I really do feel a lot better.’

And some folks think I’m a little strange.

Text messaging. Amongst my pet peeves - bad spelling/terrible grammar/fat guys over 40 who insist on wearing baggy shorts throughout the summer/shoes with rubber soles that are not trainers/the overuse of hair products - may I also add men that use text messaging as a replacement for real conversation. I have known quite a few in my time and it feels like I may have picked up another over the weekend. How I wish right now that all mobiles came supplied with nothing more than the ability to make a phone call from anywhere in the world. Looking at my phone, the inbox is full whilst the received call list shows only a handful of names.

It is hard for me to get excited about a man that prefers text messaging to the sound of a real voice. All subtlety is lost. My jokes fall flat. And, most importantly of all, I can’t hear the divine voice of the man who, on this particular occasion, is sending the text.

When I think back to the best relationships of the last few years they all have one thing in common. There wasn’t much texting going on. I’m not a high maintenance kind of chick but I think a daily phone call is a common courtesy if one wants to get a relationship past the ‘fuck buddy’ stage. I recall one boyfriend who used to ring at exactly 12.30pm every day just to say ‘hello.’ A little obsessive perhaps but I enjoyed the regularity. Another rang five times a day or more but he really was obsessed with me. Then there was one who said he didn’t want to be my boyfriend but rang me daily anyway. I never figured out quite what that was about.

My fuck buddies, on the other hand, are notable for the lack of texting in our relationship. Any more than one or two (except as a kind of horny foreplay) and I’d be concerned. I’ve grown used to sending the occasional, ‘What are you doing tomorrow morning?’ and getting the reply back, ‘Fucking you.’ It’s short and satisfying.

This in-between situation - lots of texting but no fucking - is deeply unsatisfying. Then again, I could just be suffering from three day post great sex come-down. I’m on the hormonal rollercoaster that always follows a particularly intimate session with someone I really like. One day I’m flying high, the next I’m a little low. In this case, our reunion was long overdue so the after shock is lingering. I comfort myself by knowing that I’ll be right as rain by the weekend … as long as he stops texting and starts ringing.