There are, I am told, gentlemen who are “bad at texting”.
This is curious.
These same gentlemen appear perfectly capable of locating restaurants, ordering motor vehicles, conducting financial transactions, watching seventeen consecutive short videos, and discovering the exact score of a football match played three continents away.
Yet when faced with the formidable task of typing:
“How was your day?”
their faculties abandon them entirely.
One must admire such selective incapacity.
Still, a lady should never attempt to rehabilitate a man whose thumbs function perfectly well everywhere except in her direction.