What manner of medieval throwback is this? Picture the scene: you are single. You went to a dinner thing last night and there was an amusing man there and you don’t know if you’d be up for anything (these days your wires are so short-circuited that you have to suck it and see, really) but you kind of had more fun than you’ve had in a while. And you were surprisingly yourself. So that was all in all rather edifying. And maybe you’ll bump into him someday, somewhere, and even if you don’t it’s all good practice. So that’s all good.
Anyway you are on your way to the bus stop/shrink/gym/off-licence and your phone rings and you don’t recognise the number, but it doesn’t look like one of those dodgy ones so you answer it with a curt hello and you hear, “Name? Hi, This is NAME. From last night…”
Oh dear God, just when we are coming to terms with Tinder and Whatsapp and sexting and new-gen romance, men have decided to go all retro and post-modern and pick up the damn phone. What to say? Who has time? Is my voice OK? Should we be making a plan? This is a nightmare.
We grown-up women are monumentally out of practice when it comes to the phone chat. So, if you get a caller, start calling your friends again to flex the phone muscle; to work out which jokes work when body language is not available. If you only talk to your mother on the phone your nuances will be completely off. Oh, and for the uninitiated, our research shows that the ideal length (!) is about 15 minutes. And you need to be the one to call time. And don’t talk so much that you become phone pals. And don’t have phone sex before you have actual sex. And make sure he calls you more than you call him. Some things never change. But, put simply, if a man calls you it is a very, very good sign.