Arthur Rourke Sexting. Even Better Than The Real Thing

In this new age of technological whimsy it is plain to see that sexual intercourse has lost its place as the preeminent form of expression of love. Why actually show someone exactly how you feel by opening up to them in the horizontal limbo when at the click of a few keys you can consummate a relationship kilometres away? The miracle of sexting has simplified the act of coitus. Not only is it saving an entire generation from transmitting venereal diseases to one another, but it keeps bed sheets clean, engages the ability to communicate, and creates more of an expressive populous unafraid to show their sexuality through secret messages on their phones.

The wonderful clandestine nature of the text message allows for a more creative virtual romp. As opposed to the virtual sex featured on the computer via webcam, sexting allows participants to be in various places and still conduct the textual cha-cha. For instance, you could be virtually enagaging in cunnilingus as you make your way to work on public transit. Little does the 89 year old grandmother next to know that you are balls deep in your partner while travelling comfortably across a highway. For all we know she, at the very same time, could be sexting her lover of 75 years, prepping him with cellular foreplay in preparation for the ascent to the top of textual ecstasy. You go, grandma.

Think of the time this saves us. No longer do we actually have to commit to a single task of actually physically undressing, warming up our partner and then engaging in the carnal act of intercourse. We can multi-task the shit out of it. Plus, we don’t ever have to actually see the person. We can carry out our lives while stimulating the sexual desires that creep into our minds more often than the need to move our bowels. Our society is sex crazed enough that it doesn’t matter who you are even texting.

Meet up with some random at the bar, but fear that they are a person infested with HPV and the like? Have no fear, sexting is here. Just grab that honey, or homeboy’s, number and sext the shit out them. Then you needn’t worry about waking up the next day with a case of the burning urine. And since your phone can’t get a viral case of AIDS you’re good on that front as well.

For all we know, people have wanted to substitute the act of intercourse for the simple pleasure of imagining they were screwing each other’s brains out for years. History tells us that people use to write love letters to woo one another from a far. Well we are an impatient generation, so bypass the wooing, but maintain the distance. Technology has availed us an opportunity to virtual fuck one another without any real consequences, unless of course your girlfriend checks your inbox.

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