Written by, The Single Sinner
‘The Boy’ has been texting. Texting non-stop actually, and even though it’s taken a whole lot of will power not to fall for his charms, I’ve managed to keep the messages short and sweet. Mostly due to the fact that I’ve somehow managed to get myself, not one, not two, but three new playmates. I’m no Pretty Woman, I’m still only at the beginning stages with all three but still, I’m an admitted attention seeker and these new playthings are perfect to feed my damaged ego.
I’m a text addict. If there were a form of textual rehab, I’d have been admitted a long time ago. When I’m sat at home with no deadlines to meet, no girls to sip cocktails with and no man to actually go on a physical date with, I get wrapped up in a mix of texting back and forth. It doesn’t matter who’s on the receiving end, as long as he’s hot and he’s giving me the attention I crave.
With text messages, you can compose a witty but cheeky reply without been put on the spot of having an actual conversation. I’m funnier through predictive text, simply because when I’m faced with a phone call, I stumble and most of the time end up saying something highly inappropriate, sometimes even offensive. I don’t seem to have an off button and awkward silences seem to fuel my mouth even further. That’s why texting someone is perfect.
I remember when we didn’t have the facility to text and I had to ask mum if she could take the lock of the house phone so I could ring a mobile phone. If someone asked to meet you at 6.30pm, you had to be there at 6.30pm. Not 7.00pm, after texting saying you were running late and you’d be there soon.
When I text a guy, I always seem to manage to make my life seem jam-packed and fun filled, when basically all I’m doing is working, coming home, sleeping and waking to do it all over again. To the person opening my message, it would seem I’m a party girl, constantly drinking with the girls, shopping or leading the sort of lifestyle only Carrie Bradshaw could lead as a fictitious freelance writer. Let me tell you one thing, I’m a writer but I don’t have a wardrobe full of designer dresses and Manolos piled on top of each other.
Guy number one is comical in his messages, guy number two is cheeky, although a little boring and guy number three is down right dirty. This guy doesn’t pull any punches and has already asked me for a picture. Not of my face, might I add! I like guys that are confident, not bordering on perverted. He may not be receiving another text come to think of it. Hang on, my phones just beeped. Lets hope its not guy number three asking what sort of underwear I’ve got on…