This morning on the train from yoga to work, I sat down next to a co-worker with whom I chat quite a bit. We half talked and half did our own thing (note to the confused: this is semi-acceptable with an acquaintance on your 8am commute. It is not acceptable on dates, at dinner, &c.). I read an article I’d printed out for train reading and he played with his blackberry. “What is that,” I asked, looking at a fleshy bit with groping hands on his blackberry. It looked quite a bit like male porn.
“No, God no, he said, as he showed it to me. Now it looked kind of like a pregnant woman’s belly. Oh no, no, it was a woman’s ass with a guy’s hands squeezing it, next to some text about a Friday night party. I see. He then proceeded to write a text message and send it to a Ms. Green. Then he erased Ms. Green’s name and wrote, “Ms. Perry.” He did this same-text-name-replacement send more than ten times. I laughed at him. Oh my word. We (women) know they (some men) do this (the, “hey! what’s up?” and the “hey, how are you?” are the most obvious, though anything remotely generic is suspect), but it was hilarious to see in action, especially at 8:20am. I won’t share his dismal explanation. It’s too embarrassing.