Texting kills…relationships.

I’ve known for a while that I’m too old and/or prudish to get the whole “sexting” thing. (If I want to look at a low-quality photo of a guy’s junk, I’ll use Google, thanks.) But I only recently discovered that sexting is so pervasive, it’s now expected before we’ve even met.

It started with my friend and a guy she met online. She had yet to schedule a date with this dude when one night, he texted that he was at a bar and she should be there. She naturally felt some confusion, which increased exponentially when his next text said that after drinks they should go sit on his couch for kisses and cuddles.

And then, as my friend reports, it only got weirder.

“I had no idea how to respond to that, so after a few hours, I just replied and said, ‘HA!’ and he replied and said ‘LOL.’ Then, the next morning, at 9:53 am, I got this text that said ‘Hmm. Doesn’t soundlikeypou’dmind.’ I replied about 10 hours later and basically said yes, I do mind, because he was a stranger from the internet.

So, he decided to try and smooth things over by saying he had a couple too many drinks the night before, he was a knucklehead, and felt bad. Then, a few minutes later when I didn’t reply he wrote again and said that the truth was that the text was not meant for me. ‘I was being flirty with someone I know. I meant to send it to them, but responded to you instead.’

However, there are several problems with this… I don’t even really know which text he didn’t mean to send me. I guess the first one saying I should be at the bar? But, that means he’s trying to claim that he sent several texts that were not meant for me. And, why the crazy, drunken-style text at 9:53 am?”

It was all pretty mysterious, but I was writing him off as one random nutso, until a similar thing happened to me. I had been texting with a guy I met online– me trying to set up a date, him engaging in the meaningless texting that single men seem inexplicably fond of these days (If someone could explain the appeal of texting things like “Wassup?” or “Wow, it’s raining really hard here” I would greatly appreciate it).

At the time of this incident, I was in bed, but I hadn’t told him that and there was nothing sexy about the situation (unless you’re turned on by a Clinton inauguration sweatshirt and sociology textbook). He was relaying boring details about his day (aren’t you supposed to save those for a relationship?) and I was responding with the texting equivalent of “uh huh,” when out of nowhere he texted, “We need to makeout.”

For a moment, I wondered if my friend and I could be dealing with the same dude. But since they have different area codes (seriously, that’s about all we knew about them) I have to conclude that there are multiple guys attempting to skip right to first base without all the hassle of meeting girls and talking to them.  Where’s an umpire when you need him?

Dating in Sleepy Hollow, Part 2

So when we left the story last, The Headless Doctor was attempting to use his limited phone-typing ability (hope he doesn’t operate on people with those fingers!) to last-minute cancel lunch with SDG for the second time: “Omg ai sent a txt thisa morning aboautA resachaedulingaab”

Naturally, I didn’t waste my time replying but headed straight to the office fridge, realizing that my lunch would have to be foraged rather than bought by a rich doctor. When I returned (with a tragic “at least I won’t leave a lot of corpse for my cat to eat” haul of baby carrots and a flat Diet Coke), I found that THD was not getting what I was giving– that is, the silent treatment goodbye.

“Do you like my pic?” he texted. Then, “Do you have a nice body? What’s your best feature?”  WHAT? It’s odd enough, THD, that you’re standing me up and wanting to text dirty at 11 am, but have you already forgotten that your excuse was an emergency trauma patient? Some poor soul is spurting blood everywhere (probably including on your phone, which would explain the typing), and you want to read about my boobs?

(Or my legs? Or my eyes? Just because I’m not planning to answer doesn’t mean I won’t waste a lot of time contemplating the best response.)

I knew what I had to do. Despite the increasing likelihood that THD and I were fated to have 2.1 adorable children together (extra .1 is our son’s killer abs), no dedicated medical reporter and lawyer’s daughter could be party to this kind of malpractice. So I admitted my mind was my best feature. And he wrote back, “LOL.”

Ouch.

SDGoldilocks

Lately my dating life has felt like a fairy tale. And not the sort where Prince Charming appears and whisks me off my feet.

Instead, it’s one of those stories where you wish for something and your wish is granted, but so excessively that you’re worse off than you started.

You remember how I went on the date with the guy who didn’t talk? Well, shortly after that, I found myself out to dinner with a guy who only paused for breath. I’m serious– he had to get a doggy bag because he hadn’t had time to chew. I learned about the annoying habits of his company’s HR department, even the continuing education opportunities offered by the grad school he attended. When he asked for a second date (he liked the conversation), I declined.

Instead, I made plans with another guy who had been pestering me to go out with him. Yes, pestering. Before we had met in person, one night I told him I would probably be available after 9 to discuss plans for a date on the phone. By the time I got home at 10, I had two texts and a phone message from him.

Could have been a warning sign, but I thought after dating a couple guys who mysteriously disappeared, this could be a pleasant change. The change part was right, the pleasant not so much. In two weeks of dating, he sent me NINETY-FIVE text messages.

I developed a big phone bill and an even bigger aversion to my phone’s text alert. BZZZZ. What would be this time? Checking again to make sure I got home safely, or some more discussion of whether our relationship should be exclusive? Did I mention that we only went on two dates?

I told him I wasn’t into constant communication. I tried ignoring the texts. So naturally (and by that I mean, natural for a crazy stalker), he started resending the unanswered texts.

I saw no other option but to send one of my infamous dumping texts. Then I turned my phone off and went to heat my bowl of porridge to just the right temperature.

From the Department of WTF

Strange excuses from guys are nothing new. There’s the one who told me that he was needed on urgent business in the Middle East, and the one whose phone suddenly died right before I was supposed to pick him up for a date. But this text is, officially, the weirdest reason yet for not returning my messages.

“I’ve been on a vision quest. And busy.”

Dating under the table

Providing a counter-example to all my complaints about texting, reader Red13 sent in a story about how texting actually improved communication in a relationship of his. (Although it sounds like just about anything would have been an improvement in this case). Red was on the fifth date with a girl, hanging out in her favorite bar, when the story begins. 

“Then someone she knows from work walks by.  Coworker is nice enough but bizarrely talkative, and then actually goes ahead and pulls a third chair up to the table.  My brain obviously says ‘How is this girl so dense that she doesn’t realize this is potentially a date she’s interrupting?’ but my mouth just smiles and acts friendly.

Coworker keeps talking.  They complain about work.  They talk about friends.  They just generally chew the fat. And then Coworker goes, ‘So, Date, how is your boyfriend doing?’

Date’s face drops.  She’s quiet for a second, then awkwardly tries to answer Coworker’s question without making eye contact with me. I’m very interested in her answer, too.  But a minute later, my phone buzzes, and I check it under the table: ‘I was going to tell you tonight.’  I think my response is along the lines of, ‘Uh, of course you were.’

I suppose I thought it was uncool to bring it up verbally, and so the next hour was a very interesting secret text conversation under the table while Dense Coworker talked herself to death above the table. I’m quite confident she still has no idea what was happening.”

Speaking of participants with no idea, I’m wondering what the girl texted her boyfriend. “Hey honey, it’s probably time to tell you that I’m dating other people?”

It’s a zoo out there.

Given that we’re all there for the same purpose, I find it surprising how often guys defensively offer their reasons for speed dating. I would never be so tacky as to ask, but I’m often told how tired they are of the bar pickup scene. Some of them, however, don’t seem to have updated their game to account for the fact that it’s not 2 a.m. and we’re not drunk.

“We” would include my two friends who recently joined me at a speed dating event. It’s great to have company while speed dating; the only potential issue is that you could both like the same guy. Being responsible adults, we agreed beforehand to a solution if that happened– a catfight.

Anyway, my two friends did match with the same guy, but were OK with both dating him a little before scheduling the fight (and yes, of course, I would have posted pictures for you, dear reader). The three of us recently caught up on the situation by email. Friend #1 reported:

>Did you ever hang out with him?  He texted me a few weeks ago but I said I was busy.  He then texted me that he wanted to meet up so he could pleasure me.

Then Friend #2 replied:

>That’s hilarious! He did basically the same thing to me.

Except that in her case, he got a bit more graphic. Since this is a family blog (in the sense that my whole family is reading it), I won’t repeat his exact text, but it may have involved a synonym for cat. As Friend #2 put it, “classy, huh?”

There wasn’t going to be any clawing each other over this dog.

We have a winner!

Thanks to everyone who submitted an inappropriate texting story.  You all made me feel much better about my own love life. Anyway, without further ado, the winning submission:

“A guy with whom I’d had an on-again/off-again relationship before I started seeing my now-husband (meaning that we hadn’t corresponded in any way for several months, maybe a year) managed to text me *on my wedding day* to let me know that he was going to “give me a booty call soon.” I don’t know how I managed not to scream with laughter at the dinner table, with my husband and 25 family members/friends right there. Timing: the secret of great comedy!”

In addition to a husband, this lucky reader, who prefers to be known as Glad That’s Behind Me, is now in possession of a fabulous “super doctor” coffee mug. It’s almost a shame she isn’t single, because I’m sure this cup would be a magnet for Portugese-speaking guys in search of a sugar momma. Congrats, GTBM!

The art of dumping, part duh (WIN A PRIZE!)

It’s so nice to start off a new year totally unencumbered. That must have been what inspired me to commit the double faux pas of breaking up with a guy during the holidays and doing it by text.

I used to like texting with dates. It was quick (you know how I feel about speed) and avoided the awkward silences that often arise when talking to a near-stranger on the phone. (“Uh, so, what do you want to do?” “I don’t know. What do  you want to do?”) But with greater experience, I have concluded that this new technology poses a potential national disaster. Forget legislation about texting while driving, and start banning texting while dating, which is vastly more likely to lead to the extinction of our species.

It’s not just me. Friends have reported weird relationship texts, ranging from the mysteriously brief (“Hey” after a several-month silence) to the detailed yet incomprehensible (“Eating @ the corner of canal and hester. Thought of u. I can c in here”  from a guy with whom she had not yet been on a date). But my guy’s signature move was even more irritating than mystifying. He never answered phone calls or responded to voicemails. Instead, a couple of days after I called him, he would text a message like, “Meant to call you but was busy last night. Call me tonight.” Uh no. Unless a woman is your secretary or your mom, you don’t order her to call you.

It’s possible that what he meant to say was something like, “I would very much like to talk to you, but unavoidable circumstances prevented me from contacting you sooner, and now I am afraid that I would be interrupting your busy, important life if I called you. Please forgive me, and contact me at your convenience.” I’ll never know, though, because in the two months before I ended our relationship we had only one atextual encounter.

However, the Texter’s loss is your gain, readers. Since the holidays were coming, I prepared for the possibility that we would make the leap from texting to hanging out in person and exchanging presents. The gift is really not suitable for anyone else, so I’m going to offer it as a prize in the first-ever Speed Dating Girl contest (because people who win stuff for free can’t bitch about its unsuitability).

SO, THE CONTEST

Email me at speeddatinggirl@yahoo.com with your best inappropriate dumping or texting story. I will select a winner in the upcoming weeks and post his or her story on SDG in addition to providing the awesome mystery prize.

Booty text

You’d think that once I’ve put my dating life on the internet, I’d have nothing left to be embarrassed by. You’d be wrong.

I had just arrived for a weekend visit home and was chatting with my parents while I waited for a friend to contact me about our plans for the evening. So when the text alert on my phone sounded, the conversation stopped. And when, after reading the message, I shouted, “Oh my god! No freaking way!” my parents noticed. “What did Liz say?” my mom asked. I had to explain that no, the message wasn’t from Liz. Rather it was a guy (a speed dater, incidentally) I’d broken up with nine months earlier. He was texting me at 10:30 on a Friday with an invitation for some “no-strings-attached fun.” This inspired a family discussion of the pros and cons of “hanging out” with someone you’ve dumped. Awkward.

So thank you, Mr. Ex, for allowing me to share this quality booty text moment with my loved ones.