Sexting. Where do I start. As a dad of pre-teen and early-teen daughters with iPhones, I am concerned about them being exposed to sexting. Random weiner shots from young men proud to share their first emergent pubes with any female friend foolish enough to have given their mobile number out.
And I am also concerned with another sexting angle: I’m Not Getting Them!
Like the rainbow lipstick parties I hear occurring in teenagers homes while their parents are out for the evening, sexting didn’t occur when I was a younger man (forget the fact that cell phones didn’t exist then . . . I choose not to date myself ). I hear from close female friends of all ages that sexting is a normal part of flirting between men and women nowadays. Really?!
I consider myself fairly normal-ish. I’m a world-class flirter. A potential medalist in the sport, for that matter (ok, bronze medal, but whose counting). I have a cell phone. I’m photogenic, if you know what I mean. And I have unlimited texting, ladies.
So where’s MY texts? Desperately waiting for my text tone alert.