Socrates, possible tool?

“Hi S. It’s [Relief Worker’s Full Name]. Please give me a call. I would appreciate it.”

I furrowed my brow and replayed the message.

The slightly cold tone, the shortness, the fact that he used his first and last name all made it sound like a voicemail I’d leave for someone I was annoyed with at work. Maybe I’d leave it for an acquaintance, but not for a friend and certainly not at 9:15 at night for someone who I’d previously taken to dinner on a couple of occasions.

I was puzzled, so I listened again, trying to discern what his message wasn’t saying, imputing significance on what really was just a voicemail. I am quite experienced with this routine – the confusing voicemail, the unclear text message, the random e-mail. Courting is so very high-tech these days, Romeo and Juliet would rely on that creepy guy from the eHarmony commercials to determine if they had similar opinions on if a rose by any other name would smell so sweet.

I turned down the stereo and covered my other ear, pressing my cell phone into the side of my head, as if proximity to my eardrum would offer clarity as to the message and clues to the cause of its curtness. Frustrated, I gave up and went to bed.

I never did figure it out.

According to Socrates, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” And, generally speaking, I don’t question the guy on this point, because I’ve reaped much from the careful examination and attention to pattern and detail in my own life. (Not that I’ve used everything discovered in these little S self-exams, but I have found them useful.)

However, each time I waste 10 minutes dedicating an earnest ear to decoding an everyday voicemail, half an hour composing the perfectly punchy flirty e-mail to a man or an afternoon forwarding a text message around so my committee of girlfriends can dissect it, I wonder if Socrates wasn’t, as Bridget Jones’s mother put it, “a bit of a sh-t.”