Dont Mince Words

I hate texting in new relationships and have destained the medium long before my run-in with Billy , the artist who painted mangled women.  When you don’t know someone, let alone their sense of humor, a text falls flat every time.

Gary recently contacted me from an online dating site.  We emailed through the site twice, then he got my filter-the-freaks  yahoo email.  From there, he was able to download messenger and IM me.  We chatted once.  He then emailed a few more times letting me know how excited he was to have met me (that limited 40+ Santa Barbara inventory thing).  I gave him my number and suggested he call me since I can talk faster thank I can type. He didn’t call but texted “what’s up?”

Well, Gary, I generally like men who are man enough to call.  You aren’t going to get to know me 200 characters at a time.  Nut up.  That’s what’s up.

There is your garden-variety texting.  Then we have drexting:  driving and texting (or is that drunk texting?).  Now I’d like to add whexting, whacking off and texting, to the urban mobile lexicon.

310-xxx-xxxx:  I know u dont remember me and you dont have to txt me back i just wanted apologize. i always had a lot of fun with you.

This number wasn’t in my contacts.  When I date someone, I wait six months then delete just to avoid calls and stalking.

Me:  Who is this?

310-xxx-xxxx:  Dude you didn’t have to txt me back. I was watching porn and saw a girl with red hair and it made me think of you.  You made an impression on me.

Me:  Wow. That’s some impression. Best of luck self-pleasuring. Text me again in another four years.

Just when I think I’m out of material, they re-appear.  I wonder if he had his keypad on voice command.