Drunk Texting: Stop your fingers before it's too late!

(443): I’m sorry for drunkenly throwing your phone in the ocean.  At the time it seemed like a good way for you not to text him

If you haven’t visited TextsFromLastNight.com, you should probably consider it for time wasting purposes in the very near future.  It’s a brilliant debacle of stupidity, drunkenness, and general whoredom. 

Rita recently read me the text above and has been referencing it ever since.  “Yeah, that probably would have been a good time to throw your phone in the ocean.” “Put that fucking phone down before I throw it in the ocean.”  Keep in mind, we live in the Midwest and the closest we ever come to a body of water is a canal that runs through our city.

So with that said, I'm sure you can only imagine the mistakes I’ve made with a few drinks and a cell phone chock full of numbers.  I feel like Rita should probably stage a Textervention on a regular (read: weekly) basis for me. Unfortunately, she gets distracted sometimes when we go out.  She spots something young and shiny and she leaves me unattended with a drink in one hand and my handy smart phone in the other.  I blame her directly for the misfortunes that ensue.

The lack of response to a text message is heart-wrenching in my book.  It’s so simple to respond to a text and it takes little to no brain power, so I think that’s why it hurts exponentially  more when you are drunk and the recipient doesn’t care to respond.  Examples of my repeated persistence (read: resilient assbaggery) with one young man, The Artist.

Example 1:

Stoney (10:31PM):  Well that sounds kinda fun. Although I’m just laying on my couch, which is also pretty great right now.

The Artist (10:32PM): I wish I was…tonight’s going to suck.

Stoney (10:33PM): I wish you were laying on my couch too.

Silence

Stoney (10:58PM): That was a joke. Well kind of. Have fun with your evening at work. I’m off to bed. Exhausted from having made out with this really cute guy last night for an hour on the streets of downtown. (Um, THIS WAS HIM!) Goodnight.

Silence

I was clearly flirting! What the fuck! I was talking about him. We’d had a date the night before and I thought he was really into me. Obviously not into me enough to respond to my texts…

            Example 2:

            (Just started drinking.) Stoney (10:09PM): Hi

            The Artist (12:23AM): Hey there! I just got out of work.

            Almost drunk Stoney (12:24AM): And where you headed? My house?

The Artist (12:31AM): Nah I’m out with my work buddies tonight but we’re going to be in your area.

Clearly, this is where I should’ve stopped the conversation.  He made it really obvious that he wasn’t interested in seeing me. Fuck, I’m dumb.  However, as you can guess, I just kept at it like a drunken fool.

            Stoney (12:35AM): Let me know if you want to see me…

Seriously, how drunk was I that that text seemed like a good idea!?!

            The Artist (12:35AM): Ok :D

So somewhere around 1:45AM, I run into him. No, reader, not intentionally.  I was drunk and ending my night at my favorite place to do such. I go over to say hello and he wraps his arms around me and kisses me. I go back to my friends and he comes over about 20 minutes later to kiss me some more and tell me goodbye. I whisper something about him walking me home and he says he has to take his friends home. DENIED. AGAIN. This would be the part where I should slap myself in the face a few times, but instead what do I do… I fucking text him!

            (SCHWASTED!) Stoney (2:16AM): Seriously! The tease is killing me.

            The Artist (2:28AM): Unintended…just have to TCB you know.

            Stoney (2:31AM): I know but I need a couple of hours with you in the worst way!

First off, who the hell says “TCB” besides Elvis circa 1975? Secondly, reading this the following day made me realize just how desperate Drunk Me comes off…especially via text.  So, naturally, I text again.

The hangover text:

Stoney (12:08PM the next day):  Fuck my head hurts. Sorry for being so forward last night.  I may have had a bit to drink.  It was good to run into you.

Silence.

Super fail, folks. SUPER. FAIL! I’m an idiot.  I realize this now.  This guy isn’t interested. If he was, he would’ve texted me and let me know that he’d be in my neighborhood and wanted to see me.  But the intoxicated Stoney doesn’t think very clearly - the walls come down, the inhibitions are nil, and her thumbs go crazy with reckless abandon and great authority.  Needless to say, it’s been 3 days and I still haven’t heard from The Artist. I will not blame myself for this.  I will blame alcohol and Rita, of course, for not being present to throw my phone in the ocean.

There are other drunk texting examples that I could share with you, Reader.  There are many.  But I’d just be kicking a dead horse at this point to tell you about them.  But never fear!  I have come up with a plan.  I hence forth have a list of Designated Text Recipients (DTRs)!  Those friends that I can count on to receive my drunk texts.  Those who will not judge me and not make me feel bad for their lack of response when I am drunk, but merely make fun of me for weeks (and maybe years) to follow.

-The Fox

The Lover

I decided a while ago that I wanted a Lover. I was divorced, and had stuck my toe in the dating pool far enough to learn that dating was not for me.  I had no desire to answer to someone about where I was, what I was doing or what I wanted.  Liberation was intoxicating to me, and I wanted to continue to explore who I was and what I wanted without someone else's opinion about it.  I wasn't really interested in a "friends with benefits" set-up.  I had plenty of friends.  A Lover, it seemed, would fit this bill. Nicely. 

I imagined that this situation would be simple simple simple to find.  I've heard at least 37,291 guys say that they are looking for no-strings attached sex, with someone that doesn't really require anything from them except their occasional presence.  I imagined a line out my door as I conducted interviews.  Because here's the thing of it - I'm lazy when it comes to getting laid.  I don't want to have to find someone new every week that I can drag home to my lair.  And since guys don't wear signs that say, "I'm The Guy That Doesn't Get Off Till You Do", it's also a crapshoot whether it will even be good or not if you do manage to get some action.  So if I have great sex with someone, I'd like to have it again.  Often.  I don't want to try to get with everyone in town, and as you know, when you get a little comfortable with someone, it gets even better.  So if it starts out hot and satisfying, sign me up for 2 months from now! 

Ladies, it's not easy to find a straight-up Lover.  AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHY.  It seems that men don't like this set-up.  Many of my girlfriends have tried.  Usually one of three things happens - either the guy disappears after only a night (let's just say this happens more often than not), the guy isn't as available as much as you want it, or you or the guy start to get emotional. 

I am currently watching Stoney struggle through this madness.  As she tries to cultivate a Lover, she has run into the usual failings. Guys who disappear after one amazing night - a biological imperative that I despise in men.  Guys who want to chit chat via text and try to pretend to be into being friends (when you know they'll just disappear once you finally fuck them). Guys who don't respond to your texts when you beckon them, but re-appear every now and again every few weeks (when they want it) - which frankly, is just not ever going to be close to enough fucking for a woman over 30.

I had an amazing, straight-up Lover over the course of more than 2 years. Reddi Whip guy (I warned you about how much you might hear about him) and I met at a bar. The first time we had sex, it was great - sweet, creative, aggressive, and, as icing on the cake, he was smart and funny.  Jackpot!  We slept together on and off for about a year.  Our dynamic began with him being at my beckon call, which was how he initially wanted it to be.  He wanted to be my boy toy, my midnight snack.  But being a guy, he became quieter and quieter when I called to him like a pet and requested his presence.  So finally, I put him on ice for over a month - Radio Silence.  Lo and behold, he surfaced again, wondering where I was. (Did you know that men like to chase?  I can't stress this enough.)   A new dynamic emerged - we shared the responsibility for calling when we needed it.  It worked very well.  I would call, a few days, sometimes a week later, he would call.  The gaps were filled in with my occasional trolling (Chicken Sandwiches, for those of you who have read our other blog posts), but I always knew that if I was really needing it, I could rely on him.  This is how we continued.

Then it happened.  I decided that I liked him.  I'm sorry to disappoint you, Reader.  Truly.  I know that you might have assumed at this point that I was bulletproof.  But I'm human and for fuck's sake, I wanted this fun, hot guy around more.  I enjoyed him between the legs AND the ears.  God love him, he gave it a shot - he liked me, too.  But ultimately, he didn't see himself taking me home to meet his mom (I'm 12 years older).  And he wanted a family, (I've been there and done that), etc, etc.  He realized before I did that a relationship for us wasn't the right thing and he backed off again.  Initially, I was upset.  But, eventually, I came to grips with the fact that he was right.  I gave it some time, searched my soul a little and decided that to have him around on an as-needed basis was enough and I could handle it.  When I finally reached back out to him, he was relieved, too.  What we had worked for us, and we both enjoyed it.  We kept on like that for another year. Tragically, he started dating someone a few months ago. He kindly let me know that he wouldn’t be able to see me anymore and didn't want to just disappear without letting me know why.  I tip my hat to him for that.  Godspeed, Reddi Whip.

So I found myself Lover-less again, reduced to hunting like a thirsty vampire. What I decided this time, though, was to satisfy myself with cultivating Lovers from guys that I didn't particularly adore or find amusing or interesting.  I don't mean to be crass, but if you are trying to find just a Lover, you can't set yourself up to get emotionally involved.  I'm not a sadist; I'm not in a hurry to go through that again. I also decided that I would not demand as much time - guys seem to be able to handle it when you beckon once a week or so, but not much more. So realistically, you need two.  Ok, YOU may not need two, but I do. I'm here to tell you that I'd have sex every day if it were available to me.  Ask my ex-husband who told me that he used to pretend to be asleep when I came to bed.  So for those of you who are less voracious in your appetites, one may work for you.  But two seems to be an acceptable number for me - that way, I get it enough to not be a danger to society.  So for now, there's Race Car and MVP.  With an occasional Chicken Sandwich.

I also highly recommend choosing men out of your age group. I think that younger guys get it that I'm not looking for a 25 year old to take to my office Christmas party.  And though I don't do older guys historically, I believe that they would be wise enough to understand and appreciate what you were after. Guys your own age equate you with dating and marriage and babies - particularly if you don't already have those things.

I'm still hopeful for Stoney as she tries to find a guy who gets it - that for now, being just out of a long-term relationship, she wants someone to come service her and enjoy doing it, then disappear for a week so to let her embrace her newfound liberation and discover who she is and exactly what she wants her life to look like.  I am deeply, deeply committed to the idea that you don't have to be celibate if you're not in a relationship, but neither do you have to put on your heels and your tight skirts every weekend to find a bit of something, over and over and over.  Deeply committed. 

- Rita