Photo courtesy of luvgifts.com

 

I’m in a dating slump.   I haven’t had a date for five whole days.  Five.  F-I-V-E.

 

It’s probably as much to do with my ‘meh’ state of mind right now.  But, and I cannot reiterate this enough, it’s basically come down to this.

 

I refuse to communicate with any man that cannot spell properly and speaks to me in text speak.

 

Yeah, OK, I’m an English grad who gets a leeeetle bit anal about poor spelling, but I’m not talking about mis-spelling antidisestablishmentarianism.  I’m talking about using actual English.  As in, basic GCSE English.  You know, that thing our parents teach us when we’re young.  That young teachers try and teach us when we’re at school.

 

I’ve done well to ignore this sad state of affairs for this long if I’m honest, but this post was prompted by a man texting me the following:

 

 

Let’s all just gather round, have a group hug and pause for a minute to take in the sheer hideousness that is his spelling of the word ‘roughly.’

 

(Quick disclaimer:  when I mis-spell something, it’s for ironic comedy purposes and is totally allowed.)

 

I don’t think I’m asking for too much.   Surely, speaking with each other without having to resort to text speak is all part of the dating ritual, no?  Or am I just being old fashioned.  (Not possible at 24.)

 

(For the purpose of this post, I’m not even going to go into the whole ‘You’re vs Your/There/Their/They’re’ debate – quite frankly, if I do, I will lose the will to live, but …

 

Four fuk sayk, y wont ppl speek propally??

 

I gave this particular man another chance (I’m kind like that,) and we swapped a few more messages.  And then he sent this:

 

 

*head desk*

 

Now, I spent four years studying the English language and I really don’t profess to be a linguistic genius.  But it truly is a beautiful thing.  Granted, Shakespeare and his mates didn’t always make sense, but their stories, as strange as their language seems to us now, were beautiful.  We should respect the English language!

 

These fools are making a mockery of every poet, author and playwright I ever studied and not only that, on a non-snobby level, I don’t want to go through life correcting people.  I can’t envisage spending the next forty (hopefully) years of my life saying, “No dear, you don’t spell come like that.”

 

Sorry.

 

But you know what I mean.  Not being great at English is one thing – it’s not for everyone , I get that … but men are just getting more and more lazy and I say enough is enough.  You want to get to know me … I want, nay … I DEMAND that you write in full sentences … that text speak is banished forever more and, more importantly, at the first sign of an emoticon or too many rogue LOLs, I reserve the right to block your lazy ass.

 

Potential dates … you’ve been warned – I may well ‘loose’ interest.

 

 

 

 

 

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Published by Kate Sutton

Writer, Mother, Dater.

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