A happy face. A face with a wink and a tongue sticking out. A “man” on a surfboard. It all seems so innocent and nonchalant to most “men” unaware that texting is an art form that should be treated with the same level of care as writing a thesis. Because the woman on the other side of that text is going to analyze it with the meticulousness of a holy document, and he should at least have the consideration to know that any especially esoteric emoji will keep her busy dissecting for hours.
It can’t be helped, really, as she wants so badly to find depth and thought where there is none: inside a “man’s” mind. But no, the “male” texter in question has far less strategy in his method of communication, arbitrarily choosing laughing, crying or kissy faces as the whim strikes him. If only he could put just a touch more intent behind what he said, as opposed to emitting what amounts to emoji salad, a grab bag of meaninglessness that the girl he’s sending it to is deranged enough to attempt deciphering like Talmudic law.