Sexy Texting

My kids will be the first to tell you I’m not exactly au fait with changing technology. Yes, I can use a computer, it’s essentially just an extension of a typewriter anyway and I can Google as quickly as the next person, but beyond that I’m a bit stuck.

I still have my stereo which has a CD and a tape player on it and I’m fairly certain my old record player is still in the attic. I insist on keeping my video player and collection of favourite films like Dirty Dancing and Sleepless in Seattle. The kids just can’t grasp the idea of rewinding the tape so it’s ready to watch from the beginning next time and trying to explain what a mix tape was to them gave us all a headache.

For years I’ve had what my husband lovingly refers to as a ‘brick’ for a phone. It makes calls and I can text with it, but that’s it. Finally it gave up the ghost a few days back and I had to take the plunge and buy a new one. Dear God, the things out there now are like mini televisions – where are the buttons? I know, I know. I’m old before my time but when I like something, I stick with it. Hence nearly 20 years of married bliss with Mr Divine! So I picked a phone in the end, or rather the kids picked it for me and I’ve been struggling to get to grips with it since.

I’m happy to report that my messages are now looking like those of a human not a rampaging chimpanzee. How my phone changed “Just nipping to Tesco on my way home back soon” to “Hun hippopotamus tonight yes once mums walk holiday, sorry”, I don’t know. However, I’ve got my autocorrect under control now and I’m no longer confusing my family members so much.

Today I discovered how to send a photo text, oh that was fun. I did it accidentally at first but then I let my mind ponder and the next thing I was sending Mr Divine a picture of me winking. I put the message, “Guess what I’m wearing underneath my skirt?”

I was up for a bit of fun knowing that both the kids were at school late that night. One was footballing, the other doing some kind of coursework. If I could tempt Mr Divine to come home on time, we’d have an opportunity for some adult fun together. As you know, Diary, we have to take our opportunities where we can.

He replied that he didn’t know, but he wanted to. So I sent another where I was pulling up the hem of my sensible work skirt, not too high, just high enough to show some thigh and get his imagination going. “Come home and find out for yourself.” I typed and sent and bit my lip then impatiently waited for his reply, which never came. But about 15 minutes later, he was on the doorstep and a few moments after that we were in the bedroom and he discovered exactly what I was wearing under my skirt.

Nothing.