"What The Fuck" Doesn't Come Close
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Oh, LIFE! What strange moments you possess and throw us into.
I have to make physical record of this, not only because it was so strange, but because I have to delete my texts pretty frequently to free up space.
So this moment will not last forever! It now has been trapped in the AMBER that is...my blog.
Okay, background.
Unnecessary, but here all the same!
So, I'm checking my phone a lot because there's this Batman pre-order that I made and then forgot about.
And then Gamestop is like,
"Yo, Batman's coming! Come reserve it at 10pm and get the real thing at midnight!"
Well, it was a generic mass-informational text.
But I could read BETWEEN DA LINES to get the true message.
Also at work I get texts from co-workers that I haven't added in my phone yet, so I'm usually on the lookout for strange numbers I don't recognize.
AND SO THE SAGA BEGINS.
After a very long, very frantic day at work, I finally get to SIT DOWN and relax for the first time since 10:30am. So, I go to my phone to double check the Gamestop info only to see a “2 missed calls” notification on my screen. Apparently someone called me while I was at work. I never ever heard it go off. It was just sitting in my bag, stored in a cupboard, as I was focusing on closing the store.
Then from an actual number I get a text, containing only the following:
=================
6:25.07PM, 10/24/13.
pic up the phone
=================
And I'm like...why?
What?
Who is this?
Is this someone from work?
What's going on?
What the fuck, man?!
WHYYYY do I have to pick up the phone for someone that's NOT IN MY ADDRESS BOOK?!
If I KNEW who you were, I'd have more reason to be getting back to you more promptly.
Why am I now being PRESSURED to answer some stranger's request?!
But, I must admit, I'm curious. I don't text that frequently as it is, with good reason (coz I be mad-stingy with my minutes). So, I try to touch base and try and help this, apparently, confused individual:
=======================
7:38:59pm, (same date throughout)
Sorry, who is this? I'm Fasi.
=======================
Thought that'd be enough to clear things up. That bringing up my highly-uncommon name would be enough to make this person realize that they had reached the wrong person. Because a co-worker would at least acknowledge they knew who I was.
And here's how he responds:
=============================================
7:40:14pm
I'm David how u doing is there a dasney in ur contacts
=============================================
OKAY SO WHA--- WHAA--__----asdas-d WHWAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHA--
Come on.
Be real now.
Is that not
THE
FAKEST-ASS NAME
YOU HAVE EVER HEARD
IN YOUR LIFE?!!!?!?!?!!!
Listen.
Dasney.
Das-neh?
Hmm.
Dasney.
I mean nothing against you.
I'm sure you're a wonderful person (woman? please pardon my assumption, if that is not the case).
I do not wish to make fun of your name. Who am I to judge? I have a very unusual name, as well.
I mean no ill towards you as a person, nor to make cheap jests at--what I am sure is--your full, Christian name.
But your name is WAY TOO-DAMN CLOSE TO “DISNEY”.
CRIMINALLY CLOSE.
LITIGIOUSLY CLOSE.
It's SO CLOSE and at the same time SO FAR AWAAAAAYYYY!!1!!1112!!!
So, I am already blown away by this...exotic name...being thrown at me out of nowhere, and being asked about my contacts list from some dude I don't even know.
That is such a weird name and such a weird question...
But, whatever. I'm still on board! This guy seems lost. So very...very lost. I got no problems trying to "help a brotha out," as it were:
====================================
7:41:31pm
No, sorry. I don't know anyone with that name.
====================================
Figuring that would bring things to a close.
For “David” to realize he has mistyped the number somehow.
For him to see I am not the one he seeks.
I am no Dasney.
He returns with:
======================
7:42:07pm
Wen did you get this phone
======================
And I'm like...WHUUAAATT?!! WHYAATTTT> WHAAWDSZZAAADD
HOW AM I ON TRIAL NOW?!
WHY AM I IN TROUBLE NOW?
WHAT'S MY CRIME-
HAVING ALWAYS HAD THIS FUCKING NUMBER SINCE 2006?!?
I DON'T KNOW.
WHY AM I GETTING GRILLED OVER THIS?!
WHERE DO YOU GET OFF, MAN?!?
I am simply blown away by this accusation that this has not always been my number!
And for a moment I consider, "Has Dasney tried to throw this guy off her tracks by giving him a fake number which JUST SO HAPPENS TO BE MINE?!!?!"
DASNEY.
I assure you, THIS IS NO FAKE NUMBER.
THIS IS A VERY REEEALL NUMBER
THAT I REEEAAALLY HATE GIVING OUT TO JUST FUCKING ANYONE,
SO DUDE, WHAT THE HELL?!
WHAT THE HELL, DASNEY?!
YOU'RE BETTER THAN THIS.
STOP BEIN' SO FLIP WITH MY DIGITS.
Fo' REAL.
Oh no. It does get better. My kind-hearted nature and optimistic outlook told me to keep a cool head. I need not be incensed by "David's" brutally honest line of questioning.
Plus, I am LAUGHING MY BALLZ OFF THE ENTIRE TIME.
THIS IS FUNNY AS HEEELLLLL.
And so I continue to try and help this man. Albeit through intense fits of giggles:
=========================
7:43:04pm
2006? Always had this number.
=========================
AND HE-
AND HE SAYS-
HE SAYS-
TO ME-
THIS IS WHAT HE SAYS:
====================
7:43:26pm
Ur a lie
====================
WHAT THE FUCK
WHAT-
IN THE ACTUAL
FUCK-
IS THAT A THING TO SAY?!
WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?
"DAVID", HAVE YOU LOST YOUR SENSES?!
WHAT REASON DO I HAVE TO LIE!?
WHY AM I LIAR ALL OF A SUDDEN?
OUT OF NOWHERE?
DO YOU KNOW YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHO I AM?!
NOR I, YOU?!
And before I can recover from this BASELESS ACCUSATION, I receive this message in quick succession (as can be noted by the time):
================
7:43:37pm
Send a pic of u
==================
And now.
NOW.
"David's" intentions are made very CLEAR and PLAIN to me.
It matters not if “David” can get back into contact with Dasney.
If there ever WAS a "DASNEY"!?
MUST YOUR NAME BE IN QUOTES AS WELL, DEAR DASNEY?!
For I have much cause to be suspicious for at every corner I am PURSUED BY DOUBTING STRANGERS.
BUT, SOFT!
For what matters now!
Is that he's got someone's number.
He obviously assumed it was a girl, which in itself, is an assumption of my own.
BUT I BELIEVE I AM RIGHT.
And so was he.
Strangely enough.
HOW BOLD OF YOU, "DAVID"!
To be SO SWIFT to ask--NAY, DEMAND--for VISUAL IDENTIFICATION from a COMPETE STRANGER OF INDETERMINABLE GENDER.
But, alas. I cannot provide dear "David" the "pic" he so requires.
Desires?
Requires.
Requests!
SEMANTICS!!!
I am in the THROES of LAUGHTER.
I wonder to myself if "David" thinks that I am taking so long to reply between messages because I am "playing coy," but in reality it is a hardware issue that keeps me from speedily responding to his texts.
Basically my phone is old as FUCK. It's as old as the FUCKING NUMBER THAT CAME WITH IT, I CAN'T UPGRADE IT, IT'S FUCKIN' PRE-PAID.
I even try to volunteer actual, verifiable data. Seeing how I am on trial--being under oath and whatnot-- do not wish to dig myself into a deeper hole! Perjury is simply out of the question!:
===============================================================
7:46:10pm
This phone is so old it doesn't have one [a camera]. It's a Nokia 6030, seriously.
===============================================================
Even if it did have a camera, (which you can look up for yourself and/or see from me in person, that it DOES NOT) do you know whooooo I would be sending pictures of myself to?
WOMEN.
WOMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN.
WOMEN.WOMEN.WOMEN.WOMEN.WOMENNNNNNNNnnnnnn. N.
But this does little to discourage "David."
DEAREST "DAVID"!
He SOLDIERS ON, UNFAZED:
===========================
7:47:11pm
How old are u u single
===========================
MY GOD, DAVID.
OH MY FUCKING GOD
DUDE
WHAT IS GOING ON
WHAT IS HAPPPPEEENNIIINNGGGGG
WHAT ARE YOU DOING
DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA--ON HOW MANY LEVELS--THIS IS RIDICULOUS?!
Okay. This could be an over-reaction on my part.
How often do I participate in flirty text banter?
Zero.
It's just texts from co-workers trying to cover shifts,
or from my phone telling me that I'm out of minutes,
or from my mother telling me she's getting on/off airplanes.
Those are, honest to goodness, the most frequent topics of texts that I receive.
“Is this number up on a dating site?,” You ask?
NO.
NO, IT MOST CERTAINLY IS NOT.
Should it be?
THAT IS NEITHER HERE NOR THERE,
LET ME CONTINUE MY TALE,
YOU CHEEKY WHELP.
And so.
I am bowled over by this...proposition.
UNSOLICITED proposition, MIND YOU. MIND YOU, VERY WEEEEEELLLLL.
He has...no idea...how little progress he is going to make.
I BARELY TEXT WITH PEOPLE FRIENDS,
PEOPLE I KNOW AND ENJOY THE COMPANY OF,
HAVE KNOWN FOR YEARS,
LET ALONE SOME RANDO-GOOFBALL DUDE,
TRYING TO GET LAID,
OFF OF WHAT
HE ASSUUUUUUUUMESSSSSS,
IS SOME OTHER GIRL'S NUMBER
ASSUMING THAT THERE WAS A REAL GIRL HE WAS LOOKING FOR IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!!
So now that I know where things are going, and that "David" is barking UP THE WRONG TREE (WRONG-A, WRONG-A-DING-DONG-A),
I must let him down easy:
===========================
7:51:05pm
20's. Single, but not straight.
===========================
[[And then the next two messages are from my phone provider telling me that I refilled my minutes. realized that I was running low. Not necessarily because of THIS particular conversation, but in general.
So, yeah. If nothing else, thanks "David", for reminding me to refill my minutes.
Uh...
Yup.]]
You’d think-at the very least, I HAD THOUGHT-that would be the bare minimum it would take to turn away “David”.
OH NO.
THIS DOES NOT STOP HIM.
THIS MAN CANNOT BE STOPPED:
=============================================
8:00:41pm
I'm a good looking man u should really get to kno
=============================================
…
…
…should i?
SHOULD I?!
SHOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUULLLDDD IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEYYYYEEEEYEYEYEYEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIIII?!!?!?!?#1!21
FUCKING, MUST I?!
I SHOULD be doing a SHIT-TON of things,
the very LEAST OF WHICH,
GETTING TO "KNO" some STRANGE MAN
WHO’S DECIDED TO START TEXTING ME
OUT OF THE BLUE.
I AM NOT CONVINCED, GOOD SIR!
NOT CONVINCED IN THE LEEEEAAASSTTT.
BUT I AM LAUUHRHAUGNGHNG SO HAAAAARRRDDDDD.
I'll give you that, "David". You know how to make me laugh.
AND LAUGH I DID. INDEEEEEED
And with ALL DUE HASTE, "David" follows up his assertion with:
=============================================
8:01:42pm
I'm 25 I work nd all..u smoke weed by any chance
=============================================
WH---
WHWBF
WHHHHHHHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYY!?!?!@?!@?!@!@!@!
WhAT IS THISalkjsasjd
What signs did you get from this conversation that I:
A.
WANTED TO CONTINUE IT?!!!?!?!
B.
WAS GOING TO TELL YOU--BY ANY CHANCE
(that was strangely polite, but mostly STRAAAANNGEEE)-
MY USUAGE OF ILLEGAL DRUGS?!
I REFUSED (and was conveniently enough, physically unable) TO SEND YOU A "PIC",
WHY DO YOU THINK YOU'RE "IN" NOW?!
YOU'RE OUT.
YOU'RE SO OUT.
OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT!
As am I.
In the face of "David's" dogged determination--or possibly INTENSE DELUSION-- I must take an equally direct approach in spurning his advances.
As I-truth be told-had anticipated.
Our messages began to overlap a bit, things were moving way too fast.
Way too fast in that they were moving AT ALL.
WITHOUT MY INTREST.
IN THE SLIGHTEST:
====================================
8:02:56pm
Thank you, but I'm okay for now. Also I am gay.
====================================
IS THAT CLEAR ENOUGH FOR YOU, “DAVID”!?
CAN YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?!
Really, I thought that was the most hilarious thing. To just throw it in, again, at the end like that. Ooh, so happy.
I assure you, this is no mere “red-herring” strategy to shut him down pre-emptively.
It is simply the truth.
But, things overlapped so I returned to my home screen to see this text:
============
8:02:13pm
Were u from
============
NOW you want to know where I'm from?!
WHAT.
JUST---
THERE'S NO---
IT'S NOT-
…
but it’s not over, my friends.
IT’S NOT-FUCKING-OVER
NOT BY A LONG SHOT!
AT LEAST IN “DAVID’S” PERSPECTIVE.
HE HAD TIME TO REGROUP.
AND THIS IS THE CLINCHER--
THE LAST GASP---
THE SWAN SONG:
===============================
8:03:45pm
Can I be the only man u be straight with
===============================
*inhales deeply*
nnnnnnnnnnnnnoooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
WOWOWOWOWOWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
WWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
HHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
8:04:39 PM.
I wrote my final message to "David."
WITH HEAVY HEART.
AND FURROWED BROW.
As much as it PAIN’D ME to cut our RAUCOUS LOVE-AFFAIR SHORT,
It soooooo needed to be cut.
(jk, no, i was legit laughing my ass off):
==================
8:04:39pm
I'm sorry, but no.
==================
And that was the last I heard from "David".
A GENTLEMAN TO THE BITTER END.
He was nice enough to just stop, not say anything offensive, or mean.
Or press me further.
Well, further than he ALREADY TOTALLY HAD.
He was so HOPEFUL, regardless of my--mind you, very FIXED--orientation.
MY HEART SIMPLY COULD NOT BE WON.
Huuuuge shock.
For him.
Maybe.
Not for me.
Huge LAUGH, more like.
HOWEVER.
Although my discourse with "David" came to an end, I found myself left with a VERITABLE PLETHORA OF QUERRIES (aka. alot of FUCKING questions).
Namely, how the hell did this dude get my number?
No, seriously.
How the HELL.
Did this DUDE.
GET.
MY.
NUMBER?
There are family friends that don't have this number.
There are people that DESERVE to know this number, and yet for one reason or another, do not have it.
How does this one random-ass person find my DIGITS, YO?!?!
My job should be glad that they have my number because they have no idea how stingy I am with my personal contact information.
I MUST BE LIKE THE WIND, UNTRACEABLE AND UNSEEABLE.
And what of Dasney, whom "David" was so desperately searching for, like...half a minute? Sort of?
Or, mayhap, has "David" here, thought up some random-ass name that I FOR SURE--FOR SUUUUR--would NOT have in some artificially clever attempt to continue the conversation further?
Hoping that I'd ask "What the fuck kind of name is Dasney?"
AGAIN.
My DEAREST DASNEY.
Take no offense to my seemingly brazen tone.
I do not wish to impugn your name.
No matter how...weird sounding it is.
At least my name doesn't sound like a huge media franchise.
My name doesn't instantly remind you of a mouse with huge ears.
Or tons of beloved children’s films.
Or an amusement park.
And what of the other dozens of questions that one may have…
Will they every be explained!?
WE WILL NEVER KNOW.
Why?
Because I don't want this guy to start texting me again.
Blowing UP my damn PHONE.
Tryin' ta HOLLA.
But it was fun while it lasted.
And why the hell did it last?
Are you that desperate "David"!?
I don't know.
He did seem like a good-looking guy, I guess.
A guy who has a job.
And smokes weed.
Oh, well.
I HAVE JUST RECOUNTED FOR YOU THE FIRST TIME I'VE BEEN HIT ON (via text) IN MY LIFE
AND IT'S SOME RANDOM DUDE I'VE NEVER SEEN
OR VOLUNTARILY GIVEN MY CELL NUMBER TO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YES, REALLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
STOP LAUGHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!!?
I NEED TO GO SET MYSELF ON FIRE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
FUCKIGNF FUCK FUFK CUFL SADLKJASDLKJASDLJKASDF
Oh, LIFE! What strange moments you possess and throw us into.
I have to make physical record of this, not only because it was so strange, but because I have to delete my texts pretty frequently to free up space.
So this moment will not last forever! It now has been trapped in the AMBER that is...my blog.
Okay, background.
Unnecessary, but here all the same!
So, I'm checking my phone a lot because there's this Batman pre-order that I made and then forgot about.
And then Gamestop is like,
"Yo, Batman's coming! Come reserve it at 10pm and get the real thing at midnight!"
Well, it was a generic mass-informational text.
But I could read BETWEEN DA LINES to get the true message.
Also at work I get texts from co-workers that I haven't added in my phone yet, so I'm usually on the lookout for strange numbers I don't recognize.
AND SO THE SAGA BEGINS.
After a very long, very frantic day at work, I finally get to SIT DOWN and relax for the first time since 10:30am. So, I go to my phone to double check the Gamestop info only to see a “2 missed calls” notification on my screen. Apparently someone called me while I was at work. I never ever heard it go off. It was just sitting in my bag, stored in a cupboard, as I was focusing on closing the store.
Then from an actual number I get a text, containing only the following:
=================
6:25.07PM, 10/24/13.
pic up the phone
=================
And I'm like...why?
What?
Who is this?
Is this someone from work?
What's going on?
What the fuck, man?!
WHYYYY do I have to pick up the phone for someone that's NOT IN MY ADDRESS BOOK?!
If I KNEW who you were, I'd have more reason to be getting back to you more promptly.
Why am I now being PRESSURED to answer some stranger's request?!
But, I must admit, I'm curious. I don't text that frequently as it is, with good reason (coz I be mad-stingy with my minutes). So, I try to touch base and try and help this, apparently, confused individual:
=======================
7:38:59pm, (same date throughout)
Sorry, who is this? I'm Fasi.
=======================
Thought that'd be enough to clear things up. That bringing up my highly-uncommon name would be enough to make this person realize that they had reached the wrong person. Because a co-worker would at least acknowledge they knew who I was.
And here's how he responds:
=============================================
7:40:14pm
I'm David how u doing is there a dasney in ur contacts
=============================================
OKAY SO WHA--- WHAA--__----asdas-d WHWAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHA--
Come on.
Be real now.
Is that not
THE
FAKEST-ASS NAME
YOU HAVE EVER HEARD
IN YOUR LIFE?!!!?!?!?!!!
Listen.
Dasney.
Das-neh?
Hmm.
Dasney.
I mean nothing against you.
I'm sure you're a wonderful person (woman? please pardon my assumption, if that is not the case).
I do not wish to make fun of your name. Who am I to judge? I have a very unusual name, as well.
I mean no ill towards you as a person, nor to make cheap jests at--what I am sure is--your full, Christian name.
But your name is WAY TOO-DAMN CLOSE TO “DISNEY”.
CRIMINALLY CLOSE.
LITIGIOUSLY CLOSE.
It's SO CLOSE and at the same time SO FAR AWAAAAAYYYY!!1!!1112!!!
So, I am already blown away by this...exotic name...being thrown at me out of nowhere, and being asked about my contacts list from some dude I don't even know.
That is such a weird name and such a weird question...
But, whatever. I'm still on board! This guy seems lost. So very...very lost. I got no problems trying to "help a brotha out," as it were:
====================================
7:41:31pm
No, sorry. I don't know anyone with that name.
====================================
Figuring that would bring things to a close.
For “David” to realize he has mistyped the number somehow.
For him to see I am not the one he seeks.
I am no Dasney.
He returns with:
======================
7:42:07pm
Wen did you get this phone
======================
And I'm like...WHUUAAATT?!! WHYAATTTT> WHAAWDSZZAAADD
HOW AM I ON TRIAL NOW?!
WHY AM I IN TROUBLE NOW?
WHAT'S MY CRIME-
HAVING ALWAYS HAD THIS FUCKING NUMBER SINCE 2006?!?
I DON'T KNOW.
WHY AM I GETTING GRILLED OVER THIS?!
WHERE DO YOU GET OFF, MAN?!?
I am simply blown away by this accusation that this has not always been my number!
And for a moment I consider, "Has Dasney tried to throw this guy off her tracks by giving him a fake number which JUST SO HAPPENS TO BE MINE?!!?!"
DASNEY.
I assure you, THIS IS NO FAKE NUMBER.
THIS IS A VERY REEEALL NUMBER
THAT I REEEAAALLY HATE GIVING OUT TO JUST FUCKING ANYONE,
SO DUDE, WHAT THE HELL?!
WHAT THE HELL, DASNEY?!
YOU'RE BETTER THAN THIS.
STOP BEIN' SO FLIP WITH MY DIGITS.
Fo' REAL.
Oh no. It does get better. My kind-hearted nature and optimistic outlook told me to keep a cool head. I need not be incensed by "David's" brutally honest line of questioning.
Plus, I am LAUGHING MY BALLZ OFF THE ENTIRE TIME.
THIS IS FUNNY AS HEEELLLLL.
And so I continue to try and help this man. Albeit through intense fits of giggles:
=========================
7:43:04pm
2006? Always had this number.
=========================
AND HE-
AND HE SAYS-
HE SAYS-
TO ME-
THIS IS WHAT HE SAYS:
====================
7:43:26pm
Ur a lie
====================
WHAT THE FUCK
WHAT-
IN THE ACTUAL
FUCK-
IS THAT A THING TO SAY?!
WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?
"DAVID", HAVE YOU LOST YOUR SENSES?!
WHAT REASON DO I HAVE TO LIE!?
WHY AM I LIAR ALL OF A SUDDEN?
OUT OF NOWHERE?
DO YOU KNOW YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHO I AM?!
NOR I, YOU?!
And before I can recover from this BASELESS ACCUSATION, I receive this message in quick succession (as can be noted by the time):
================
7:43:37pm
Send a pic of u
==================
And now.
NOW.
"David's" intentions are made very CLEAR and PLAIN to me.
It matters not if “David” can get back into contact with Dasney.
If there ever WAS a "DASNEY"!?
MUST YOUR NAME BE IN QUOTES AS WELL, DEAR DASNEY?!
For I have much cause to be suspicious for at every corner I am PURSUED BY DOUBTING STRANGERS.
BUT, SOFT!
For what matters now!
Is that he's got someone's number.
He obviously assumed it was a girl, which in itself, is an assumption of my own.
BUT I BELIEVE I AM RIGHT.
And so was he.
Strangely enough.
HOW BOLD OF YOU, "DAVID"!
To be SO SWIFT to ask--NAY, DEMAND--for VISUAL IDENTIFICATION from a COMPETE STRANGER OF INDETERMINABLE GENDER.
But, alas. I cannot provide dear "David" the "pic" he so requires.
Desires?
Requires.
Requests!
SEMANTICS!!!
I am in the THROES of LAUGHTER.
I wonder to myself if "David" thinks that I am taking so long to reply between messages because I am "playing coy," but in reality it is a hardware issue that keeps me from speedily responding to his texts.
Basically my phone is old as FUCK. It's as old as the FUCKING NUMBER THAT CAME WITH IT, I CAN'T UPGRADE IT, IT'S FUCKIN' PRE-PAID.
I even try to volunteer actual, verifiable data. Seeing how I am on trial--being under oath and whatnot-- do not wish to dig myself into a deeper hole! Perjury is simply out of the question!:
===============================================================
7:46:10pm
This phone is so old it doesn't have one [a camera]. It's a Nokia 6030, seriously.
===============================================================
Even if it did have a camera, (which you can look up for yourself and/or see from me in person, that it DOES NOT) do you know whooooo I would be sending pictures of myself to?
WOMEN.
WOMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN.
WOMEN.WOMEN.WOMEN.WOMEN.WOMENNNNNNNNnnnnnn. N.
But this does little to discourage "David."
DEAREST "DAVID"!
He SOLDIERS ON, UNFAZED:
===========================
7:47:11pm
How old are u u single
===========================
MY GOD, DAVID.
OH MY FUCKING GOD
DUDE
WHAT IS GOING ON
WHAT IS HAPPPPEEENNIIINNGGGGG
WHAT ARE YOU DOING
DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA--ON HOW MANY LEVELS--THIS IS RIDICULOUS?!
Okay. This could be an over-reaction on my part.
How often do I participate in flirty text banter?
Zero.
It's just texts from co-workers trying to cover shifts,
or from my phone telling me that I'm out of minutes,
or from my mother telling me she's getting on/off airplanes.
Those are, honest to goodness, the most frequent topics of texts that I receive.
“Is this number up on a dating site?,” You ask?
NO.
NO, IT MOST CERTAINLY IS NOT.
Should it be?
THAT IS NEITHER HERE NOR THERE,
LET ME CONTINUE MY TALE,
YOU CHEEKY WHELP.
And so.
I am bowled over by this...proposition.
UNSOLICITED proposition, MIND YOU. MIND YOU, VERY WEEEEEELLLLL.
He has...no idea...how little progress he is going to make.
I BARELY TEXT WITH PEOPLE FRIENDS,
PEOPLE I KNOW AND ENJOY THE COMPANY OF,
HAVE KNOWN FOR YEARS,
LET ALONE SOME RANDO-GOOFBALL DUDE,
TRYING TO GET LAID,
OFF OF WHAT
HE ASSUUUUUUUUMESSSSSS,
IS SOME OTHER GIRL'S NUMBER
ASSUMING THAT THERE WAS A REAL GIRL HE WAS LOOKING FOR IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!!
So now that I know where things are going, and that "David" is barking UP THE WRONG TREE (WRONG-A, WRONG-A-DING-DONG-A),
I must let him down easy:
===========================
7:51:05pm
20's. Single, but not straight.
===========================
[[And then the next two messages are from my phone provider telling me that I refilled my minutes. realized that I was running low. Not necessarily because of THIS particular conversation, but in general.
So, yeah. If nothing else, thanks "David", for reminding me to refill my minutes.
Uh...
Yup.]]
You’d think-at the very least, I HAD THOUGHT-that would be the bare minimum it would take to turn away “David”.
OH NO.
THIS DOES NOT STOP HIM.
THIS MAN CANNOT BE STOPPED:
=============================================
8:00:41pm
I'm a good looking man u should really get to kno
=============================================
…
…
…should i?
SHOULD I?!
SHOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUULLLDDD IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEYYYYEEEEYEYEYEYEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIIII?!!?!?!?#1!21
FUCKING, MUST I?!
I SHOULD be doing a SHIT-TON of things,
the very LEAST OF WHICH,
GETTING TO "KNO" some STRANGE MAN
WHO’S DECIDED TO START TEXTING ME
OUT OF THE BLUE.
I AM NOT CONVINCED, GOOD SIR!
NOT CONVINCED IN THE LEEEEAAASSTTT.
BUT I AM LAUUHRHAUGNGHNG SO HAAAAARRRDDDDD.
I'll give you that, "David". You know how to make me laugh.
AND LAUGH I DID. INDEEEEEED
And with ALL DUE HASTE, "David" follows up his assertion with:
=============================================
8:01:42pm
I'm 25 I work nd all..u smoke weed by any chance
=============================================
WH---
WHWBF
WHHHHHHHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYY!?!?!@?!@?!@!@!@!
WhAT IS THISalkjsasjd
What signs did you get from this conversation that I:
A.
WANTED TO CONTINUE IT?!!!?!?!
B.
WAS GOING TO TELL YOU--BY ANY CHANCE
(that was strangely polite, but mostly STRAAAANNGEEE)-
MY USUAGE OF ILLEGAL DRUGS?!
I REFUSED (and was conveniently enough, physically unable) TO SEND YOU A "PIC",
WHY DO YOU THINK YOU'RE "IN" NOW?!
YOU'RE OUT.
YOU'RE SO OUT.
OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT!
As am I.
In the face of "David's" dogged determination--or possibly INTENSE DELUSION-- I must take an equally direct approach in spurning his advances.
As I-truth be told-had anticipated.
Our messages began to overlap a bit, things were moving way too fast.
Way too fast in that they were moving AT ALL.
WITHOUT MY INTREST.
IN THE SLIGHTEST:
====================================
8:02:56pm
Thank you, but I'm okay for now. Also I am gay.
====================================
IS THAT CLEAR ENOUGH FOR YOU, “DAVID”!?
CAN YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?!
Really, I thought that was the most hilarious thing. To just throw it in, again, at the end like that. Ooh, so happy.
I assure you, this is no mere “red-herring” strategy to shut him down pre-emptively.
It is simply the truth.
But, things overlapped so I returned to my home screen to see this text:
============
8:02:13pm
Were u from
============
NOW you want to know where I'm from?!
WHAT.
JUST---
THERE'S NO---
IT'S NOT-
…
but it’s not over, my friends.
IT’S NOT-FUCKING-OVER
NOT BY A LONG SHOT!
AT LEAST IN “DAVID’S” PERSPECTIVE.
HE HAD TIME TO REGROUP.
AND THIS IS THE CLINCHER--
THE LAST GASP---
THE SWAN SONG:
===============================
8:03:45pm
Can I be the only man u be straight with
===============================
*inhales deeply*
nnnnnnnnnnnnnoooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
WOWOWOWOWOWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
WWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
HHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
8:04:39 PM.
I wrote my final message to "David."
WITH HEAVY HEART.
AND FURROWED BROW.
As much as it PAIN’D ME to cut our RAUCOUS LOVE-AFFAIR SHORT,
It soooooo needed to be cut.
(jk, no, i was legit laughing my ass off):
==================
8:04:39pm
I'm sorry, but no.
==================
And that was the last I heard from "David".
A GENTLEMAN TO THE BITTER END.
He was nice enough to just stop, not say anything offensive, or mean.
Or press me further.
Well, further than he ALREADY TOTALLY HAD.
He was so HOPEFUL, regardless of my--mind you, very FIXED--orientation.
MY HEART SIMPLY COULD NOT BE WON.
Huuuuge shock.
For him.
Maybe.
Not for me.
Huge LAUGH, more like.
HOWEVER.
Although my discourse with "David" came to an end, I found myself left with a VERITABLE PLETHORA OF QUERRIES (aka. alot of FUCKING questions).
Namely, how the hell did this dude get my number?
No, seriously.
How the HELL.
Did this DUDE.
GET.
MY.
NUMBER?
There are family friends that don't have this number.
There are people that DESERVE to know this number, and yet for one reason or another, do not have it.
How does this one random-ass person find my DIGITS, YO?!?!
My job should be glad that they have my number because they have no idea how stingy I am with my personal contact information.
I MUST BE LIKE THE WIND, UNTRACEABLE AND UNSEEABLE.
And what of Dasney, whom "David" was so desperately searching for, like...half a minute? Sort of?
Or, mayhap, has "David" here, thought up some random-ass name that I FOR SURE--FOR SUUUUR--would NOT have in some artificially clever attempt to continue the conversation further?
Hoping that I'd ask "What the fuck kind of name is Dasney?"
AGAIN.
My DEAREST DASNEY.
Take no offense to my seemingly brazen tone.
I do not wish to impugn your name.
No matter how...weird sounding it is.
At least my name doesn't sound like a huge media franchise.
My name doesn't instantly remind you of a mouse with huge ears.
Or tons of beloved children’s films.
Or an amusement park.
And what of the other dozens of questions that one may have…
Will they every be explained!?
WE WILL NEVER KNOW.
Why?
Because I don't want this guy to start texting me again.
Blowing UP my damn PHONE.
Tryin' ta HOLLA.
But it was fun while it lasted.
And why the hell did it last?
Are you that desperate "David"!?
I don't know.
He did seem like a good-looking guy, I guess.
A guy who has a job.
And smokes weed.
Oh, well.
I HAVE JUST RECOUNTED FOR YOU THE FIRST TIME I'VE BEEN HIT ON (via text) IN MY LIFE
AND IT'S SOME RANDOM DUDE I'VE NEVER SEEN
OR VOLUNTARILY GIVEN MY CELL NUMBER TO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YES, REALLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
STOP LAUGHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!!?
I NEED TO GO SET MYSELF ON FIRE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
FUCKIGNF FUCK FUFK CUFL SADLKJASDLKJASDLJKASDF