textual frustration

by Paige Cram

Published: August 27, 2008

Last weekend began like many others. I had been waiting to hear from this guy, and by Friday at 5pm, I had given up. So I did what any girl would do: I got dressed up, met some friends for happy hour and tried not to think about it. Drinks led to dinner, led to more drinks, some mingling with new people and an overall good night. At the end of it, I went home to my apartment, slipped into my pajamas, and drifted happily into a dreamland where people always call when they say they will.

At 3:02, I awoke in a groggy haze, unsure as to why until I noticed a flashing light on my phone.

“You have one new text message!”

Of course. There was only one person it could be from, and I had a feeling I knew exactly what it said.

I flipped the phone open, squinted at the screen in the dark and sure enough, there it was:

“Barack has chosen Senator Joe Biden to be our VP nominee. Spread the word!”

Typical. Make a girl wait all week, then send a text in the middle of the night as if nothing ever happened and you have no idea what time it is.

Spread the word? At 3am!?!

Look here, David Plouffe, I don’t know what kind of campaign you’re running, but even young, technologically-advanced voters don’t like to be abruptly woken and propositioned.

By the time I woke up the next morning, my annoyance over Barack’s late-night text had subsided but so had any excitement I might have felt upon hearing the announcement in broad daylight. Why had he waited so long?

I’ll admit, when we hadn’t heard from him by Monday, I was intrigued. He was playing hard-to-get, and I’ve always been a sucker for guys who play hard-to-get. By Wednesday, he was sending flirtatious emails to the press, with the subject line “VP Nominee” and the body message “just kidding.”

“Oh man,” I thought, “this guy’s good. And any minute now, he’s going to really show the media and send us that announcement.”

Then Thursday afternoon came, and I was starting to lose interest. By Friday, the whole thing started to feel like a big tease. Sure, it was a great idea in theory: taunt the voters a little, make them feel like they’re close to the action, but ultimately, reward them. But that’s a dangerous game with a narrow window before the one who’s waiting starts to feel neglected, rejected and resentful.

So it was at 3:02 on Saturday morning when my phone made its cheery little bleep bleep. I was no longer waiting for the message, and so its arrival gave me no satisfaction. In the moment, I responded the only way I could think of: I turned off my phone and went back to sleep.

And the next day, any chance of intimacy was gone. Every station, newspaper, magazine and Web site had spent all night preparing to break the news, and now it was all out in the open for everyone to enjoy. But I guess that was always the point. The legacy of this campaign will be that everyone gets a piece.

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