Sexy texts to dad highlight digital dangers

Well this is awkward. Last Saturday, at three minutes past midnight, I sent my dad a flirty text message meant for my other half. And it wasn’t just one flirty text … it was three. Think more a quick succession of racy texts, sent to my FATHER.

The hangxiety was not full-blown straight away, given I was completely oblivious about said 12.03am texts for most of the following day. That was until my mother took great relish in regaling me.

As I lay in anguish, I recalled a colleague who once let out an audible yelp after she accidentally shared a, er, cleavage portrait … with her mother-in-law.

Mine, I must add, were far from X-rated, more verging on PG texts with a side note of steamy, so it was nothing like sending a saucy selfie, I told myself. Repeatedly.

Looking at the far-flung iPhone now lurking next to an errant sock in the bedroom corner, I wished for those halcyon times when technology was not so, well, dangerous. When the worst thing that could happen when racing home to the answering machine was accidentally deleting the whole tape.

We now live in far more precarious digital times and no one is safe, even dear old dad.

As a journalist with plenty of delicate numbers in the contacts, I’ve long lived by the mantra that no good comes from late-night texts.

The other obvious point that was helping with my recovery was the fact that everyone has done it at some time or another.

A girlfriend quickly reminded me of her own accidental cringe text sent to her recently divorced husband. Her ex had just been by to pick up the kids, only to receive: “The coast is clear, come and get me baby.”

“That was not meant for you,” she quickly sent, but the damage was already done.

Sometimes it can be a professional clanger. A dearly departed PR Melbourne maven once accidentally group emailed her list of journalists – with remarks and rankings, one was just labelled “ghastly” – to all her contacts instead of her new employee.

And surely we have all sent an email moaning about someone to the person you are moaning about by mistake. It happens to the best of us, I again told myself. Repeatedly.

So it is now up there with cringey family folklore. Like the time I was asked for ID with dad going in to see the movie Lolita. Word of advice, don’t go see Lolita with your father.

But like all good dad and daughter relationships, we have handled the said incident in our usual way – we have never, and will never, speak of it.