Beep! Uhh . . . I Love You, How About Dinner?
There’s a romantic revolution going on in Southern California, right under our noses and hooked to our telephone outlets. It seems that phone answering machines are having hot conversations with one another, and if they like each other, then the owners get together over some chardonnay.
These mechanical devices may be the best thing to happen to single women since receiving their very own American Express cards.
The other night, for example, my friend Terri, from Mission Hills, introduced me to her handsome fiance, a dentist from Rancho Bernardo.
“How did you meet?” I queried, always eager to know of these romantic beginnings.
“Well, we left messages on each other’s phone machines for several weeks after our first blind date,” explained Doug-the-Dentist. “Our machines got to really like each other a lot, and by the time we were finally able to get together again, we were in love!”
Who could have ever guessed that modern technology would replace the old romantic days of horse-and-buggy courting, when holding hands was tantamount to engagement?
I recall the pre-women’s lib days of those awful girl-ask-boy high school dances. With my speech already written out, a glass of water by the phone (in case the voice gave out on the first ring), rehearsed invitation all set, I would clear my throat and ask some poor, unsuspecting fellow to our April a la Mode (more like a la sweaty palms).
How much easier it is today, with phone machines. They do the work for us. You can get as romantic as you want, as poetic, as crazy. Somehow, talking to a phone answering machine is much simpler than making a complete fool of yourself in a live conversation. (Although they do have your message recorded for posterity, to play for family dinner parties as guests howl in hysterical laughter, wiping tears from their eyes. Such could be a drawback to being recorded.) Besides, if you do something really crazy, you can always pray to God that the tape ran out and they never heard your message in the first place.
That’s what happened to my La Jolla friend Joan. She composed an elaborate poem that she read into the answering machine belonging to an attractive man at work she had her eyes on. (She had already verified his bachelorhood.) At the sound of the beep, she read her poem in stanzas, with just enough lines to fill in each 30-second message allowance. (She had to hang up and call back several times to get it all in.) However, by the time she ended it with her name and phone number and an invitation to dinner, the tape had run out. For months she pined away, feeling foolish and wondering why he never called; the curiosity of the mysterious female caller with the sexy voice drove him nuts. Finally they met face-to-face at a Golden Triangle company cocktail party. She confessed: Now they’re in love.
So--now that modern technology has made it easier to call your loved one, enabling you to save your sanity in the process (i.e., no more sweaty palms, rehearsed speeches)--why don’t you call his phone machine right now and leave that romantic message you’re too embarrassed to say in person? You could be engaged by Christmas! (The worst that could happen is that his mother is visiting for the week, and screening his calls.)
Just don’t forget to wait for the beep.