I was just reading an article online in today’s New York Times Circuits section about how nobody memorizes phone numbers anymore because we all have them programmed into our cellphones. The article is accompanied by a photo of a guy who looks kind of hot. It turns out that the guy accidentally dropped his cellphone a couple of months ago, and:

The only number he remembered was his parents’ home phone number, and for about a week or so he ended up sitting by a land line at their house, leaving an online message with his instant messenger profile urging people to call him at his parents’ home.

“Every time the phone rang I was jumping for it, and that hasn’t happened in so long, sharing a line with your family,” he said.

Perhaps the most frustrating part was that Mr. Gillis had been dating someone in Manhattan and couldn’t get in touch with him until he returned to the city. “I felt completely alone,” he said. What’s more, for those friends whose cellphones were their primary or only phones, he could not even resort to directory assistance.

I love how the article throws in the “him,” all matter-of-fact-ly. It’s not often you see something like that in a New York Times piece unless it’s an article in the Home & Garden section about a fabulous house that’s just been renovated by a gay couple.

Anyway, since the guy is gay and from New York City, I naturally assumed he’d have a Friendster profile. And of course, he does. He is not closely connected to my network, though.

I love the Internets.