Oh brother, there’s an app for that?
Dominique Valente wonders if a relationship app designed to help men, may in fact, solve some of her own problems…
I have a confession to make. One of those awful truths about yourself that you really should go see someone about. Like a kind, non-judgemental friend, a shrink, or someone who’s a bit of both, like Oprah. Although this is a problem that even Oprah, may just judge me about.
Because it’s one of those horrible truths that is made worse because most women seem to have it wired into their DNA or at least, so it seems. So here it is, the full awful irony of it: I’m a terrible communicator. Or corresponder I should say. Which is the absolute pits. As I write. For a living.
But the thing is, while I write articles and profiles and spend my time jotting down ideas and thoughts — none of that helps me one bit when it comes to remembering my Aunty Mable’s birthday. And Ok, so while you can get technology on your side for that type of thing (thank goodness for the birthday notifications on Facebook or I wouldn’t have any friends left.) It gets worse. I’m really bad at initiating contact with anyone. I swear I’m part hermit. Give me a few good books, my bulldog, and a mountain of chocolate and you won’t hear from me for weeks. Or at least, until I run out of chocolate.
I even have fantasy about it: I’m buried in a library … it’s all rather safe, I have plenty of space and air but they can’t quite get me out for a few months because if they do the structure may collapse. So the only thing they can do is funnel some things down to keep me sane: like wine, chocolate, love letters from my husband (which may include how sad he is that I’m not around but maybe just a little happy that the house actually stays clean) and maybe my dog for company.
Although even in my fantasy this has a few glitches … such as my pudgy dog who more than likely will get stuck in the funnel, and the fear that my hubby may leave me if he gets used to the joy of living in a neat and organised home. But I digress.
You see, while I am part hermit I love and cherish my friends and family. And despite my crab tendencies I really enjoy spending time with them. So a few years ago, the best thing that could have ever happened to someone like me, happened: I met and married a man of details. Yes, a man of details. That should be his super power name: Details Man. A friend of spread sheets and organisation, at home with flow charts and post-its, while still being really cool and a bit of a closet hipster. In short, my saviour, my soul mate. Really. Every few days, he says something along the lines of : “When last did you speak to your friend?” While I answer, “Which friend?” He’ll roll his eyes, calculate the length of time I haven’t spoken to each and suggest I send proof of life.
Of course, it hasn’t taken long for my friends and family to realise that there is something behind my new found connectivity. Like trained bloodhounds, they all smelled a rat, sniffed out my secret, and went straight for the source. And I feel sort of bad about it. cause they’re shameless.
They phone him all the time … about everything. They send him texts when I haven’t responded … telling him to tell me to respond. And worse they phone to tell him things like “We’re all going in for Aunty Mable’s birthday, I assume your wife is as well?” While he splutters and eventually agrees. He once complained to my best friend that he doesn’t keep my diary. To her credit she nodded sympathetically, patted his arm, and said, “Ah shame, that’s rough … so she’s free on Friday?” I’m not proud of this.
No really I’m not. I know it’s not his job … and he really should be concentrating on his other passions like being a closet hipster and riding his commuter bike everywhere … which is why my ears perked up considerably at the water cooler today. Ok it was actually the printer, but whatever.
My COO told me about a fabulous app he heard about on radio 94.7. It’s something that may just save my poor hubby’s nerves if I‘m ever allowed to use it. It’s called the BroApp: “Your clever relationship wingman.” That’s what it’s marketed as. Truly.
Apparently the BroApp automatically sends messages to your girlfriend so that you can concentrate on other things … like time with your bros. And it’s smart too, you add a few messages, set the time of day you want it to send the message and it does it. Not only that but it can detect when your girlfriend’s phone is nearby, so it doesn’t send messages while you are with her and it won’t send messages when you haven’t spoken in a while … it even has built in software so that your girlfriend’s friends won’t be able to uncover your secret. It’s clever. Revolutionary. And yes, perhaps just a bit of a question mark, I suppose. But the only thing I’m interested in is: do you think I’ll be allowed to use it?
Especially, as I am, not in fact, a bro? And will it judge me if I load more than one ‘girlfriend’? Somehow, I think it won’t. There’s a bro code, right? Even if you’re not really bro … they’ll help a non-bro in need, right?
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