Beware Auto-Correction

Text messaging is all the rage these days. Parents of kids with cell phones will tell you that their bills reflect thousands of text messages sent and received, but hardly any talk time. I can’t figure out how to get my kids to talk with me on the phone; they neither answer my calls nor return my voicemails. But they are usually very quick to respond to a text message; even during school hours when they shouldn’t have their devices turned on.

My most recent relationship experience consisted mostly of communication by text message. This lady was about twelve years my junior and evidently preferred texting to talking. This suited me quite well as I have long preferred email to phone calls since they are less intrusive. If the matter is not urgent, and most aren’t, then a recipient of an email can reply at his or her convenience. When a phone call arrives and you are busy and cannot answer it is often perceived by the caller as rude that you don’t answer. The truth is that the call might come while you are at work, in a meeting, on another call, in the rest room, dressing, swimming, out of earshot of phone, brushing your teeth, in the shower, have your hands in dishwater, be carrying a tray of drinks or some other activity that prevents an immediate answer. Unfortunately the caller cannot see why you didn’t answer and in the case of the female caller, this will often spur her imagination to kick into turbo mode as she obsesses about the possible reasons you are ignoring her call.

Thankfully this was not the case with my last relationship. She hardly ever called without first texting to see if it was alright to call. I admit that I rather liked that. So I do text more these days, but still do not know the lingo used by the kids. I haven’t tried to learn it either. This means my messages tend to be rather long as I don’t much abbreviate. In fact, I still use all punctuation, apostrophes and capital letters for names and new sentences. Yes, you can tell me that my way is inefficient and I wouldn’t try to argue, but I would insist that my method, while slower and more tedious, does result in less confusion over meaning. At least that’s the usual case.

Like many people, I tend to utilize a number of different devices and change my primary mobile phone frequently. This means that I have to learn new keyboard layouts, new tricks for making capitals, switching between letters and numbers and how to insert special characters.

It seems many devices come with a default setting for auto-correcting text. This may be appreciated by many, but I don’t like it at all. I find it extremely annoying that this mini-computer wants to attempt to guess what I’m going to write. Even more frustrating is when it changes a word after you have typed it because it ‘thinks’ you meant to say something else. This can even get beyond annoying when the device auto-corrects something so critically important as to change the tone or context of the message.

So being innocent me, I sent a message to this girl I was seeing and included her name in the message for emphasize. But my cellular phone had its devious little way with my message and proved that auto-correct is not my friend. When Angelica responded with an outrageous accusation in all capital letters I was confounded. What the hell was she doing?

So my response was a request for simple clarification: “Who are you talking about?” Angelica responded that she had suspected for a while that I was cheating on her.
“What?” was all I could muster in response. I then added “Give me a call when you figure out what’s going on so you can explain it to me.”

“It’s over! DON’T EVER CALL ME AGAIN!” was her final message in all caps.

I sat quietly for a moment; staring at the device and waiting for her inevitable “LOL JK” but it never arrived. So stunned was I by what had happened I looked out my front window to see if she was outside waiting to surprise me with this little act. But she wasn’t there, didn’t show up and never texted me again.

It wasn’t until the following day when I was replaying the full scenario that I went back to review my messages in an effort to understand her weird, extreme reaction.

It took a few minutes because I was initially focusing on her messages, but when I looked at my outgoing texts I saw it. Clear as day and as stinging as acid rain: my Samsung had auto-corrected her name from 'Angelica' to 'Andrea.'

The Result of Experience

I feel like I’ve left you with the sense that I’m more focused on money than anything else in. It is true that I frequently elaborate on specific financial aspects of relationships, but it is merely to explain the importance. I’ve read of several surveys in which financial incompatibility is listed as the primary reason for divorce. Some marriage counselors and economic professionals quote statistics of greater than half of divorces being a direct result of financial mismanagement by one of the “trusted” partners. Yes, a large number of marriages end because of economic incompatibility.

So it is not just me. Sure, some may try to label me as cheap, but I look at it quite differently. My view is that a thoughtful consumer is a better saver. I’ve never gone so far as coupon clipping or sale chasing, but I will admit to recycling, reusing and to being greatly impressed every time I see one of those shows where in which a shopper walks out of a store with a cart full of highly discounted and near free items.

If there is a better deal coming soon or a lower price around the corner then I will wait for the sale or walk around that proverbial corner. I’ve always been planner and a saver. I’ve always run my affairs on a budget and even in the days of only bringing in $3-$7 and hour I always found a way to save something. In the early days I thought mostly of saving for emergencies such as a vehicle breakdown. Over the years, as I matured professionally and financially, I also focused on saving for the future. Whenever I had the desire to buy something that I didn’t need I went through a long process of weighing pluses and minuses to determine if I would actually make the purchase. If I convinced myself that I actually needed it or really thought I’d make good use of it, then I would adjust my budget to begin saving for the major purchase. That’s right: I didn’t run out and make an impulse purchase. I would not touch my emergency fund for a luxury item. I’d find leeway in my existing budget to put aside money each month. If that meant going out less, working overtime or taking on another job then that’s exactly what I did. By the time I’d saved the money required to buy the item I felt more like I could afford it and it was easier to part with the cash as I was more able to justify that I’d worked for the nonessential gift to myself. I’ve been responsible like this since I was a teenager. I guess I’d have to credit my parents for preparing me for life as they taught me by their own responsible example.

Then, in the middle of my third decade, my world came crashing down around me. A divorce wrought havoc on my master plan, tearing down the walls of security I had worked so hard to build. I was modestly proud to be well ahead of the average man my age with retirement savings, personal investments and children’s college funds, but this comforting position was destroyed in this hateful event.

So I would categorize my reaction to any further threat as falling within a normal range. You may compare me to those people who only decide to lock their car doors, clutch their purse tighter or install a home alarm as a result of having been robbed at least once. Yes it is reactionary, but it is a totally natural reaction. After you touch a hot stove once, you aren’t likely to make the same careless error again. Yes, it would have been better if the proper precautions were taken in advance, but Monday morning quarterbacking is of no use. Once you realize the negatives from having suffered the bad stuff, doesn’t it make more sense to build a better defense from that point on? How stupid would a person look if they voluntarily remained a perfect victim: aware of the threat yet accepting it without any preparation or precaution.

So, that is how I see myself. I am proceeding along life’s treacherous path at a somewhat reduced pace, but with an extraordinary amount of care. If you are not moving along in the same manner, then you have failed to learn anything from my experiences and will instead wait for the eventual opportunity to learn from your own. I wish you the best of luck and the least of failure in this process.

Temporary vs Permanent

Relationships are fragile; so much so that the end is often a complete surprise to one or both parties. Rhiana and I seemed a near perfect match, but she disposed of me like last year’s picture-less calendar. I was flabbergasted. Stung that she’d dropped me and stunned further at the abrupt manner it happened. There was no explanation or even a good bye. My calls, questions and texts were ignored. I gave up after a couple days to avoid crossing that line from whence I could be labeled stalker and to prevent myself from just looking pitiful.

Thank goodness I never got one of those prison-style neck tattoos with her name on it. Of course I’ve never actually considered doing that. It is only on my mind because I saw a lady with one this morning. I am always amazed when I see someone, especially a good looking woman with some dude’s name scribbled high up on her neck. That is not something you can easily get rid of. Of course, they wear it in a place they will never actually see it, but it will be there in every mirror and photograph for the rest of her life. Will she limit future relationships to guys with the same name? It is something to ponder…if you have that kind of time on your hands.

If I ever did go so far as to put permanent ink on my throat I certainly hope I’d have the good sense to go with something enduring like “my girl”, “I’m with her” or my own name. Other than the fact that the neck is mine until the end and that I’ll most likely still be dating girls, I can think of nothing else as long lasting. Certainly not any relationship I’ve experienced so far.

I did nearly get a tattoo once. I was a young, nineteen-year-old Marine, barely off Parris Island and busy drinking with friends. Someone brought up the idea of tattoos and I was as motivated at the idea as the next fellow under the influence of alcohol and peer pressure. I picked out some real hard corps tattoo with the large initials ‘USMC’ complete with raging flames around it. I recall that I did have the idea to place it on my forearm or chest so that I could cover it when necessary. But in the end I didn’t go through with it. No, I didn’t chicken out, but once I sat in the chair, the guy working the needle decided to up the price almost thirty percent from what I’d seen posted. I questioned his math and he responded “the prices went up but I haven’t changed the signs yet.” I quickly hopped out of the chair and declared loudly to my friends that I wasn’t giving this scammer my business. One or two of the fellows went through with it, but I never even considered it again since that night. I was a very highly motivated young Marine, but I was also both quite frugal and very much against being taken advantage of.

I think that this particular story sums up a lot about me since many of my posted views touch on an aversion to wasting money on poor relationship investments and a strong desire to avoid being manipulated and used whenever possible.

No Free Parking

How far has our society fallen when considering the low self esteem of our young ladies? What has caused today’s young women t think of themselves as nothing more than parking meters?

No sooner do I attempt to commence a conversation with a young lady and she has to interrupt me with a demanding: “Buy me a drink.” Clearly she has failed to keep up with the pace of conversation and is probably completely ignorant of the subject of whatever interesting information I am so amicably sharing with her. Instead, she boasts a total lack of interest and proclaims that if she must be so burdened to listen to my drivel then I will have to feed the meter by buying a drink; otherwise this uninterested pair of female ears will move on.

I have been ignored before; and I have been ignored quite a lot. I have been married and I’ve also had friends that ignored me just like a spouse would, so it is nothing new to me. I really don’t like the idea of paying for someone to listen to me at this point in my life. In fact, I have become so accustomed to talking with myself that I sometimes do it in public. I don’t mean to and I stop as soon as I realize it, but it is so much a part of my life now that I can’t seem to completely prevent it. But I’m not crazy; not at all. It isn’t as if I’m talking to someone who isn’t there or an imaginary friend: I’m talking with myself and I am right there. I hear myself and I enjoy both sides of the conversation. Sometimes only half of the conversation is audible as the other side is inside my head, but frequently both sides of the discussion are spoken aloud.

So it is my position that if this woman cannot see that what I have to say is so valuable that she should be offering me a drink, then she is surely not capable of comprehending the incredible insight I am divulging. So I cease talking, shaking my head back and forth while giving her a little smile of acknowledgement to let her know I’m not interested in her sort of game. To accent my point I signal the bartender for one beer. No further words are necessary and she quietly moves on to graze on some other fellows green pastures.

Alone, I can now discuss the problems with modern women. I smile at my own resilience as I remind myself that we can drink twice as much for half the price now that she has departed. Cheers!

Desire Versus Deserve

Another difference between men and women is how they see themselves over time and the concepts they have of what makes an acceptable partner. Most men’s standards for choosing a mate rise with age, while those of women who can hear that clock ticking will move towards the lower end of the scale.

The male began his life’s journey with the shallow mind of a boy and the volcanic churnings of testosterone that youth is incapable of controlling. Therefore his search began with a simple concept to describe his ideal woman: ‘there.’ Thats right, the young males greatest aphrodisiac is proximity.

The mature man wants something better. On top of that, he has convinced himself that karma owes him this. He believes that he deserves a reward for having worked hard, suffered a rough life or other miserable failures for which he refuses to accept the blame. This way of thinking is clearly a sign of senility. You simply do not earn tokens in life that you may later cash in for a "hot young thang." Nevertheless, I think nearly all men come to this point. To further exacerbate this ridiculous illusion...men will often actually succeed in luring the attentions of a younger female. But karma has nothing to do with that. An older man usually has a little more money in his pocket as well as the knowledge that an appropriately dangled dollar is as attractive to the young, materialistic human female as a juicy worm is to a hungry fish.

An aging woman started out looking for Prince Charming and her every effort fell horrifically short of reaching that elusive happily-ever-after. She resisted, held out and successfully kept those she considered unworthy at bay. The prince she waited for never showed up. The few semi-gallant callers she allowed eventually turned out to be nothing more than jesters posing in knight’s armor. Later in life, she finally realizes that all men are toads and she can only select the best of the bunch. She has regrets for some of those she scorned as she views the sparse pickings remaining on the lily pads around her. After years of disappoint and a mounting sense of time running out, she resorts to the strategy of grabbing any wart covered sucker that hops along.

Pay Dates

I’ve always found it humorous to hear a man declare: “I’ve never paid for a woman’s company.” Clearly this can only be stated by a man who has never spent any time with a woman. Dating, courting and even flirting incurs expense. Even attempting to engage a woman in conversation is oftentimes costly. Do you think she’s going to be there simply to be showered with your great wit or amazing insight alone? Keep dreaming pal! Detaining her through means involving force is frowned upon and can lead to involvement by authorities, so you’ll only maintain her attention as long as you are providing entertainment, drinks and food to keep her in range.

Yes, I agree that this does look quite similar to the practice of enticing game into a particular killing field by placing food and treats at strategic location. In fact, it is the exact same thing. But so far this technique has not been outlawed and as long as you stick to only threatening women with your bad jokes and poor pick up lines then you’ll remain on the safe side of the law.

If you were to keep track of the expenses you rack up for transportation, clothing, telephone calls, letters, dates, dinners, movies, flowers, drinks and the endless list of other little gadgets, gifts and trinkets you will be amazed at the investment required to court a woman. Most of the time the risk of loss greatly outweighs the long shot chance of reward. My personal record is horrendous so I won’t even produce statistics.

I guarantee you that a true cost comparison analysis would reveal that the short term rental of female escort services for an evening would prove immensely less costly than the long term plan of repeated, unstable payments required to maintain a woman.

Then you have to consider the intangible costs as well. Sanity saved alone would be incalculable. Subtract the inevitable heartache, hours of boring conversation you pretend to be interested in, meeting her family and hanging out with her friends, attending the events or show she’ll undoubtedly drag you to, dealing with unpredictably dramatic mood swings and other things you must endure, but cannot comprehend.

I met an old man once who expressed his wished for the reimbursement of time spent waiting outside shoe stores for his wife of forte-seven years. A brief glint in his eye was evident as he spoke of this secret dream. Alas, it was quickly squashed when his wife poked her head out of the store to shout loudly at him: “What are you doing? Don’t talk to strangers! You’re supposed to be watching my purse.”

His face quickly drooped even lower than before as the gray clouds resettled over his irises and he turned away from me without bothering to say goodbye. I moved several paces away to give him space to brood as well as to prevent enraging his keeper even further. But I did not leave the area completely. I watched the elderly gentleman from afar for a short while longer…maybe as much as ten minutes more as I pondered how he arrived at such a state. The man wore a cap labeling himself as a veteran of World War II so he clearly had not been led around by the nose his entire life. He was mostly bald now and a bit slumped at the shoulders, but a aged war veteran with a wife like an active drill instructor could be expected to stand a little less tall after nearly half a century of her abuse. As difficult as it was for me to stare, I wanted to ensure that this image was engrained on my mental hard drive in hopes that I would never allow myself to arrive at such a pitiful place in life.

I’m still working on preventing my own demise.

Commitment

Consent to marriage is not unlike voluntarily offering oneself for commitment to an asylum. If you think it’s bad on the outside and that somehow support from the institution will help, then you’ll most likely be sorely disappointed at the plain brick walls, thin mattresses, rubber wallpaper, unflattering robes, plastic utensils, bland food and writing with crayons versus pencils. You know it’s going to be hell, but since you’ve clearly given up on better prospects in the future, you might as well jump on into that crazy whirlpool with full restraints in place.