“Excuse me?” I said, looking up from my book. I was having a late afternoon latte at an outdoor cafe not expecting this question.
“I’m referring to Twitter. How often do you Tweet?”
“To be honest, I’m not much of a Tweeter. ”
“You’re logged on aren’t you?” He was starring at me as if I had three heads.
“I actually am, so my blog tweets itself every time I post something.”
“How often is that?”
“Five days a week, twice on Mondays since I participate on #Mondayblogs.”
He shook his head. “But what about building an audience for your blog. Tweeting is the best social network for that.”
“You know, you’re barking up the wrong tree here. I’m just not that kinda girl. I do every thing moderately, including Tweeting. And if you don’t mind me saying, what’s so important that you have to tell the world everything you do and think anyway?”
“People are interested.”
“What was your last Tweet…may I ask?”
He scrolled like a pro showing his screen. Talking to an attractive woman over coffee.
Of course the attractive woman part thawed me a bit, however.
“Why was that interesting? Who the fuck cares?”
“My followers do.”
“Oh please…spare me. You’ve also misled them. We’re having coffee, but technically separately.
“I only have so many characters to work with so brief is best.”
“Deception is best you mean.”
The 4 bucks I paid for my now ruined latte, the milk somehow evaporating, irked the hell out of me. Why I engaged in the first place will remain a mystery. He was all of 30 with a nose you could hang your hat on. He looked like a myna bird, which I suppose made sense being such a Tweeter and all. Sorry, couldn’t help myself.
As though reading my mind he said, “Would you like a fresh cup?”
“If I said yes, will you Tweet it?”
He smiled impishly. I watched him stand in line, his fast, frisky fingers never leaving his keyboard.