Yo, Tech Answer Guy,
It was the time of the season. And, I acted like a Zombie. :-(
I was in the back seat of my dad's 57 Chevy (don't ask what happened to the first 56 - my dad swears that some day he'll finish writing the novel he has started about it) with my girl, Druscinda del Packer. Druscinda has what you might call "offbeat good looks" and she definitely has an "offbeat good personality;" but she French kisses like she can actually speak the language, and that's good enough for a 17 year-old boy!
I had just gotten to second base and I was taking a big lead, almost daring the pitcher to pick me off, when I heard this pinging coming from my backpack in the front seat. Telling Druscinda to hold that thought (can you believe she actually groped with stubby fingers to do it?), I climbed into the front seat and got out my cellphone. It was my friend, Javier Bordem, IMing me the latest walrus playing piano video on YahooTube. I thought it was adorable. Druscinda not so much.
I climbed back into the back seat with her and tried to take up where we had left off. In retrospect, the fact that she tried to poke me in the eye should have signalled to me that she wasn't happy with what had happened, but, after a great deal of rubbing to my way of thinking the entirely wrong body part, I convinced her to try once again.
I had gotten to second and a half base (as you may be able to tell, I'm not a big sports fan) when my laptop started playing David Bowie singing "The Hallelujah Chorus." I didn't know it could do that! Retrieving it from the backpack I should probably have taken with me into the back seat the first time we were interrupted, I found an email from my other friend, Agamemnon Freshman, warning me that somebody was spamming my Farcebook page with Viagra ads. I had to deal with that right away - wouldn't want my 37 Farcebook fiends to get the wrong idea! (Even if it was kind of right...)
Druscinda insisted that I take her home after that. No amount of advanced highly vocal emotion-laden negotiating - that's right, I'm not above begging - could get her to change her mind. So, that was the end of that.
Can you tell me what I did wrong?
Sincerely,Yo, Billy Blah Blah,
Sounds to me like you have Sore Syndrome (it's pronounced So-Ray, smartass; there's an accent, but I'm never sure if its ehgou, gravy or unicorn, so I generally leave it off). Sore (remember: rhymes with "no way") Syndrome is named after the digital god who has come to be known as "the anti-Eros;" whenever somebody is using technology when they should be in the throes of passion, they are silently invoking Sore's name.
On the one hand, you shouldn't feel bad: Sore (rhymes with d'oh! Earl Grey) Syndrome afflicts men of all ages. On the other hand, the embarrassment at having aborted one's own sexual experience seems to be more acutely felt by younger men, who usually don't have much of it to fall back on.
The unfortunate thing is that there is a simple cure for the Syndrome. If you are about to go on a date that you hope will turn into something more, for Sore's sake, turn off all of your digital devices! (Which, by the way, rhymes with stow array. Apparently, you can't make this clear enough.) Furthermore, if you are in the midst of making whoopie (not to be confused with making whoopie cushion, which was a kind of low tech version of Sore's - rhymes with Godot prey - Syndrome for your parents' generation), don't stop to check a message on your digital device!
Trust The Tech Answer Guy. He speaks from experience.
The Tech Answer Guy
If you are a dude with a question about the latest technology, ask The Tech Answer Guy by sending it to questions@lespagesauxfolles.ca. Just remember: In a recent column, I wrote that bendy straws are to culinary pleasure what hoot owls are to construction sites. Apparently, that was wrong: the analogy should have been as declawed otters are to sand castles. In my own defense, let me just say that I don't know an imaginary comparison from a - okay, right, if you start defending your actions, you undermine the whole apology thing. About that, let me just say...nothing. Gotcha.