Pearls of Wisdom: What’s in a number?

Last week’s iPhone debut and the excitement that followed got me thinking… Life used to be so simple. Not long ago, children played in the park after school, people chatted amiably with their neighbors and romantic prospects had only three options for contact with one another — live interaction, honest-to-goodness letter-writing or phone conversation.
Thanks to email, online chatrooms, instant messaging programs and, of course, cell phones with text-messaging capabilities, the first two traditional methods of courtship may be headed the way of the dinosaur. Just ask the US Postal Service, who just removed ten percent of previously existing mailboxes due to lack of use.) But, some would claim, the third option — the phone call — appears to be alive and well. Look no further than the single restaurant-goer dining in the company of his Trio or the earbudded driver who just cut you off in rush-hour traffic.

There’s no doubt, though, that current telecommunication is very different from its predecessor, and not just because of the increasingly colorful, decreasingly bulky devices themselves (the iPhone measures 4.5 by 2.4 by 0.46 inches — almost small enough for women to carry in their backpockets without ruining the, um, view). Thanks to freedom, frequency and finances, what was once a simple, black-and-white step in the dating process — the number request/exchange — has entered a grey zone.

It may be hard to imagine now, but, as recently as the early nineties, phone conversations occurred within the confines of the home, office or, occasionally, phone booth. Before cordless technology, the boundaries were even narrower, dictated by the length and flexibility of the cord itself. Now, however, we can — and do — talk anywhere, anytime. In the airport security line, at the gym, on the chairlift, at the top of the mountain — wherever we can get service (or, if we’re willing to pay for it, analog).

One result of this relatively new freedom is the frequency with which people speak to one another. Back when being on the phone meant sitting at your kitchen table, to the exclusion of cleaning the living room or running errands, a phone call was a serious commitment of time, energy and focus. As a professional multi-tasker, I am certainly guilty of double-booking (I am convinced that my best conversations happen while moving), but I have yet to master multi-focusing. A surprising number of people, however, claim to be capable of carrying on three simultaneous IM conversations while playing chess while checking email. As someone who has been on the other side of said IMs, I think it’s fair to say that their supposed “multi-focus” reads more like ADD.

Finally, cell phones have drastically changed the finances involved in telecommunication. It’s no longer a big deal to call someone long distance, especially if it’s after nine o’clock or if both speakers happen to have the same carrier. Assuming neither battery dies and no one loses reception, a four-hour conversation is no different from a four-minute one (with the exception of its rumored cancer-causing potential).

These changes affect all phone interactions, though. So what are the specific consequences within the dating world? First and foremost, the overwhelming reduction in commitment means that asking for a phone number no longer means as much. What was once an indication of serious interest — I will call you when I am at home and available to talk, and you will have to be home and unoccupied in order for us to speak to one another — can now be an indication of any number of things. “It’s about keeping my options open,” a 25-year-old male friend of mine said. “If I had a good time, I want to know that I can call her again, if I want to.” Not will, but can.

“Who knows what’s going to happen in the next week?” he continued. “Maybe I’ll be bored, maybe I’ll be in the mood to hook up with her (this is especially likely if we’ve already hooked up), maybe I’ll be drunk and in the mood to flirt via text-messaging.”

As a single girl who’s given out her number more than once in the past few months, I find this range of options more than slightly depressing. I only give my number to guys I would actually want to hear from again (and no, I don’t believe in giving out fake numbers when I’m not interested — that’s what my email address is for). Is there no way to read a number request as indicative of a more positive potential outcome? I would like to believe that it depends on the context in which the exchange occurs (post-hookup, post-five-minute chat, post-mind-blowing conversation), but recent history suggests that this is not the case. I’ve heard from guys I never expected to while other, seemingly more interested prospects have dropped off the planet.

The mention of email raises a side question: does a number mean more or less than an email address? An optimist would say that email indicates a desire for intellectual communication, an exchange of words and ideas, while a number is much more conducive to a late-night boredom (or booty) call. A pessimist would say that email is inherently less personal, lacking both the non-verbal cues of live interaction and the intonations and inflections of actual conversation. (Say what you will; in my opinion, punctuation marks are a poor and ambiguous substitute….)
Regardless of the information exchanged or requested, I think it’s safe to say that context is both crucial and complicated. Judging someone’s availability based on an interaction at a party or in a bar is virtually impossible; people go out to talk to others (which is, presumably, what you’ve been doing prior to the number/email request). Add alcohol (and/or other substances) to the mix, and it’s safe to say that what you see/hear/feel is not necessarily what you get.
A thousand words and a fair amount of thought later, I can draw only one conclusion. The only surefire way to find out what’s in a number is to ask. Unless you’re a fan of awkward and intense moments, I don’t recommend this tactic. Playing it cool dictates that you don’t ask about intentions — back in the day, that was your father’s job.

Despite the complications of the number exchange, Lisa Mendelman went over her cell phone minutes last month. You already have her email address, though lisame@stanford.edu, so what are you waiting for?