T # ] 3 8
WWW JU STOUT COM
MAY 7. 2010
V O IC ES
-I Wanna Sext You Up
“Yeah, that sure is a penis,” Kathryn notes
dryly, handing the telephone back to me. We
stand in the hallway o f a Clinton Street house
party, Crystal Casdes blasting into rooms lit
by colored light bulbs. The Victorian house is
full of hipster kids, secondhand smoke and the
”
i
..distinctively vigorous sexual tension of spring­ 1 b y Ni ck Ma t t o s
time in Portland.
“W hy the hell would he send that?” I ask,
Marc takes a drag from his cigarette. “I t’s
raising my voice over the din. “We broke up
all the rage with the Justin Bieber crowd, I
years ago, and haven’t even spoken in months. hear.” Through the doorway I can see a drunk
W hat about that equation says ‘text me pic­ girl flirting sloppily with a tall man— she pokes
tures of your cock’?”
him in the chest flirtatiously, he tries not to
Marc arrives, two botdes in his hands. flinch. H er eyes narrow seductively and her red
“W hat are you guys laughing about?” he asks, lips move, her words inaudible over the music.
handing me a beer.
He nods politely, checks his watch, sighs.
“Nothing,” Kathryn says. “Just talking
“W hat weird times we live in!” I note, still
about Nick getting sexted.”
watching the couple in the living room. A Joy
“Let me see!” I hand Marc my phone— his
Division song shakes the walls. “Technology
fingers slide across the touch screen, the image
really has a way o f making courtship strange.”
pops up. “Dam n,” he notes.
“Says the man of a thousand internet dat­
“Yeah, we were together for almost two
ing stories,” Kathryn says, smiling. H er indigo
years for a reason.”
skirt hikes up slighdy as she bends her right
* “Wait, sexting?” I turn my head—Tim
leg to rest her foot against the wall, forming an
stands in the doorway, backlit by the purple elegant number “4.”
glow of the living room. “Is that what I think
“Craigslist is for lovers,” I quip. Thank god
it is?” he asks, his English accent rendering the fo r colored light bulbs, I think to myself, looking
vowels long and round.
, at the purple light illuminating us— no one can
“I think so,” Kathryn replies. “I t’s sexy see you blush. “Well, no— almost exacdy the op­
text messages, right? For example, sending posite. Craigslist is for... fuckers?”
unsolicited pictures of your penis to your
“Definitely fuckers,” Marc concurs, stub­
ex-boyfriends.”
bing out the American Spirit in the ashtray.
REMEMBER
TO
BREATHE
“That’s the cruel part, I guess,” Marc says
thoughtfully. “As much as we can know some­
one through technology, know what school
they went to, what bands they like, whether
they’re a top or bottom, that technology still
hasn’t helped us to actually be close to other
people the way we wish we could.”
The drunk girl has done it— the man’s arms
wrap around her, she rests into him as they
sloppily make out. Under the black fight I see
the lint on her dark dress, the man’s hairy arms,
the million human details that make each of
them up, the millionth-and-one detail o f their
coming together.
“Desire is always a mystery,” Kathryn adds.
“A mystery that technology couldn’t possibly
solve.”
I pull my phone out, slide my fingers over
the slick screen while the purple fight shines
off the glass. Are you sure you w ant to delete this
image? it asks me. Full o f gratitude for the
unsolvable mystery, for the equation o f desire
that brings people together and pushes them
apart, for the black fight and the drunk breed­
ers making out and the springtime that had
quickened in all o f us— I click yes. and smile as
the phone’s screen goes blank. v IA
“Anyway,” I continue, “thinking about this
situation— I could keep this picture forever
now. I could keep it in my phone and carry it
with me everywhere, and show people at my
discretion. I t’s like exhibitionism on this in­
credible scale, except worse in that you totally
forfeit your right to choose when you’ll expose
yourself.”
“I don’t even know if there are really ex­
hibitionists anymore,” Kathryn says, swirling
her whiskey around in its glass. “I mean, we
now have the option of living almost totally
exposed. Between Facebook, Linkedln, and
Foursquare, it’s like having an index o f every­
one’s social, professional and sexual lives. These
days, does exhibitionism’ mean anything? I t’s
basically the norm.”
“But even for our sexual fives?” T im won­
ders aloud.
“Think about the last time that you saw
someone’s relationship go ‘Facebook official’
and what that meant,” Kathryn states defini­
tively, setting her right foot down. “I rest my
case.” In the living room, the drunk girl has
upped her game— I see her leaning forward as
she talks to the man, exposing more cleavage.
“I guess I never think about it that way, be­
cause dating is still confusing as hell,” I offer.
“I t’s no easier to actually get to know someone
and understand how to be with them, despite
the fact that you can more or less track the full
trajectory of their fife.”
Nick Mattos almost always ends up hanging
out in the hallway at parties. It's a good place to
hide from guys you once met online. Please don't
send nude photos to nickmattos@justout.com.
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