Friday, 1 October 2010

In which I consider the importance of a well-constructed dirty text message

Forget ears, neck, the inside of an elbow - it shouldn't come as a surprise when I tell you that a gal’s biggest erogenous zone is her brain (incidentally, if it does, you need to rethink your moves, pronto). Stroke it in the right way and she'll be purring like a kitten. Fail to engage, and at the very best she'll be fantasising about Clive Owen as she makes the necessary noises; at worst, she’ll be doing a mental stock check of the kitchen cupboards and making a note to add mustard powder and Earl Grey teabags to the Ocado list (true story, kids).

Which is why I squeaked in appreciation when I received this little gem from Nutty Cow. Frankly anything that lends a nod to my grammar fascist tendencies, whilst reassuring me I'm not alone in having such tendencies pleases me greatly:

It sums up in a few simple frames a situation I've previously found myself in - as, apparently, judging by the popularity of the above cartoon when whizzed round on email, have the majority of the girls. Being relatively liberal, open-minded kinda gals, we're generally quite agreeable to exchanging a few saucy text messages every now and again with the right chap. But they're not for the inexperienced.

A dirty message whilst one’s on the train home; lying in bed; or even just on the way into a meeting can be enough to perk up a day no end. Get it right and by the time a girl gets home, she'll be so worked up that you might even be able to convince her to do that thing you’ve not yet been brave enough to ask her to do. You could even distract her from the Kurt Geiger sale. Serious stuff.

But get it wrong, and there's little redemption. We don't want old clichés that you've taken from something you saw in some bad porn; and if anything you compose could be confused with something that wouldn't look out of place on Ashley Cole's phone then dear gods, don't. We won’t bother to play again.

But there’s something worse, far worse, than hackneyed material and dodgy photos of greying pants (no, really). What’ll really put us off and have us zoning out and sending half-hearted replies (if any), choosing instead to reach for the hot chocolate and last book in the Twilight series (told you it was bad) is poor spelling and bad grammar.

We’re not totally unreasonable beings, and if your wordsmithery has got us really hot under our collars, we’re unlikely to notice an out of place preposition, or a sneakily split infinitive. But some of us are paid to notice this kinda stuff (and others are just like this), but the second you tell us you want to strike us all over with a feather or that you can’t wait to be their, we’re going to come - not in the way you want us to, but instead over all surly schoolmarm rather than sexy schoolgirl.

Of course, if your mistake is merely an over-excited slip of the fingers and you’ve done enough earlier on to keep our minds occupied and as far from that shopping list as possible, you might be lucky: we might just let the lack of concentration go - so long as you make it up to us once you’ve got through the door… Otherwise, you and your porn are on your own.


Chômage said...

I've been known to take this to the other extreme. Nothing brings me to the edge faster than a correctly placed comma splice, sandwiched between two independent clauses.

Is it hot in here?

Blonde said...

Chomage: Ah, you're back. I thought it was a little quiet round here. Now, why do I get the feeling I'm being mocked?

Chômage said...

I daren't.

And apologies for the absence. I have been having girl trouble in the form of a wailing 10 day old. Nappies are the only filth I can partake in from now on.

watergirl said...

I am in complete agreement with this! (And it's affecting my online dating life!) I don't know what is more sad...

Blonde said...

Chomage: That's fantastic news: congratulations!

Watergirl: It does seem to strike a chord in several girls: you're not alone.

Katie Khan said...

I met my boyfriend online when he hunted me down and stalked me over the internet (...true story). What won me over, as well as the obvious persistence - you can't fault the commitment! - was his knack with words and the immaculate punctuation. Men need to learn that all textual contact, whether delivering a witticism or an innuendo, needs to be PERFECT. I couldn't agree with you any more on this point, seriously. In my case, he literally 'had' me at hello.

Mike said...

Would the new text rule be something about a misplaced comma possibly leaving you with a dangling participle? joke, but someone had to make it.

Robbie said...

Their they're, dont' be so harsh about are miss -takes. Girl's do it to.

Please Don't Eat With Your Mouth Open said...

Again, I call the 'dyslexia' card with my boy. Dirty messages are dirty messages, missing apostrophe or not. If I held him accountable for spelling mistakes, I'd only be hurting myself :D

And "You could even distract her from the Kurt Geiger sale. Serious stuff." ?

Speak for yourself ;)

Blonde said...

KK: So glad it's not just me... (He stalked you? That sounds like a story worth hearing...)

Mike: That works so much better in American. We have dangling modifiers, which just aren't as fun.

Robbie: That sentence actually makes my teeth itch. You're mean.

PDEWYMO: Hah! In which case, you are just a better woman than I, my friend!

TLM said...

A rather nicely written little piece. A lesson that, frankly, should be handed out to all men. A clear benefit to us with such ability is that those who lack it, lose out. Justice.

A rather intriguing blog too - written, clearly, by someone who appreciates a man with considerable diction! I shall read on Blonde and perhaps pass you a comment or compliment...

Blonde said...

TLM: I'm glad you agree. And yes: erudition and diction (and actually, general intelligence) are whacking great aphrodisiacs. Welcome. It's nice to have you.

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