He leaned in for a kiss. I did the same. We embraced, and it was great — there’s something about geeky guys that really gets my blood pumping. Our hands began to roam when suddenly his pants vibrated. I grinned and pulled back, about to make a lewd comment about a toy. He, however, pulled out his phone with excitement. “There’s one here!” He dismissed the notification and opened an app on his phone and began to scan the room. “One what?” I asked
I embraced him from behind, kissing his neck, trying to get the mood back, and looked down at his screen. He was playing Pokémon Go and was about to catch a Zubat that seemed to have been roosting in my closet. I’m all for bringing games into the bedroom, but this is a bit silly. Honestly, Pokémon Go has really puffed my jigglies.
I know this is another question of technology seeping into real life, and this isn’t an article about how tech is bringing about the downfall of civilization. This is more a commentary on how there are other balls I could be playing with, but the trainer is too distracted.
I’m not a luddite, I love my tech — in fact, I have had to avoid Pokémon Go because I don’t want my life’s goal to be finding a Squirtle (my love life is already like that, anyway). Nor do I think that no one should play this game. It’s just a matter of timing. If I bring you to my hideout to show you my Helping Hand, the last thing I want is for you to be distracted.
I get that you gotta catch ‘em all. I get that it is fun. I get that you want to keep playing. All I am saying is if you put the phone down, you can catch my Slowpoke.
