You know that t-shirt that says, "Coffee: Do stupid things faster, with more energy"? A shirt with a similar sentiment could be made for the modern phenomenon of drunk dialing. We all know drunk dialing and drunk texting are a quick and easy way to expose yourself as needy, crazy, not over someone, or way more into someone than you should be. As the years go by, technology makes it easier and easier to humiliate ourselves in a more efficient manner.

Obviously, instantaneous communication holds many benefits. In the event of an emergency, you can call 911 and expect that help will soon be on the way. With constantly updated internet news, you can know today what happens in China tomorrow. You can pick up the phone and immediately speak to your grandma who lives on the east coast, or find out how much your Texan newborn cousin weighs.

However, with convenient technology, some things are lost, too. Anticipation and mystery are the foundation of romance. Would we have seen the beautiful, longing letters from Civil War soldiers to their sweethearts if those troops could pick up a phone to tell their ladies, "Yeah, the weather is shitty down here, but at least I still have all my limbs"? Would the relationship between Darcy and Elizabeth ever have taken flight if she'd been able to shut him down after the Netherfield ball with a quick "Ur an asshole" text? Probably not.

My assumption is that drunk (and otherwise imprudent) communication became a real problem when it became commonplace for people to have regular access to phone lines. Before that, you had to write a letter, send a telegram, or have a messenger deliver your note. All these methods require a) time and/or b) a third party. With phoning and texting however, no such time limit or potential filter exists.

Now, I know I'm oversimplifying here. Perhaps the problem isn't due entirely to technology. People in days of yore had more refined manners, and maybe just more sense. But here's the thing: I don't think you can overestimate the temptation of such easy communication. I consider myself to possess decent manners and sense, but with a little booze and a cell phone, those restraining traits can be temporarily suspended.

So what can you do? I have discovered one way to eschew the lure of instant communication. A few nights ago, after a fun night of bowling (and bowling alley beer), I sat in my bedroom and began to feel lonely. I reached for my phone, but stopped myself. Instead, I scrawled a few sentences in a journal that I kept meaning to start, but never did. The next morning, I could only read about half of what I'd written, and it wasn't anything insightful. Although my entry was nothing to hang onto for posterity, it kept me from sending out an embarrassing text. So I'll take it.