Charles Glass discovers that women are now cancelling dinner dates by text. What’s the world coming to?
For the sixth time in as many months, a woman has cancelled our dinner. In and of itself, a cancelled dinner is a trifle. The cancellations themselves were less surprising than the timing and the method. Did the women, all of whom are friends, give me time to make alternative arrangements? Did they call? Did they explain or apologise? Did they hell! Each of these grown women sent a message via text or SMS to my mobile telephone. Average warning time pre-dinner: nine minutes. One message arrived after dinner. When it happens six times, you wonder whether you have stumbled upon a phenomenon. The aberration becomes the trend.
Came the next morning, did one of them call to placate her disappointed escort? Did any offer consolation? Did one so much as send a postcard by way of explanation? Did they hell! O tempora, O mores!
Perhaps this is the norm, and no one told me.
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