Don’t you hate when the first time you attempt to get back on that horse, the horse is a turd?
I decided to give this guy a shot. He seemed kind of funny. Kind of. Maybe it was just the accent that made him seem funny. Oh, the British accents. If Hugh Grant were from Minneapolis, hehe heh ha hahahaha hohohahahaha ahahahahaplease.
First text was after 10pm. I hate that, so I told him I was busy. I texted him two days later. I got a “who’s this?” Sigh. You actual asshole. The bubble is blue: I know you have an iPhone. I watched you put my name in your phone. Only an insane person would delete a contact after one text encounter over three days. Not only that, my first text to you was my name. You probably don’t even have to scroll to see it! You’re just being a bitch about texting! I’m supposed to think you forgot about me, right? That you talk to such a gross amount of women that “hi” texts from unknown numbers are the bane of your (Bruce Wayne) existence? Oh, okay. Here’s a “fuck you” for ya. Tuck it in nice and tight.
I didn’t say any of that to him. I told him my name again. He responded today, which is two days later. “Hey you.”
I guess I’ll never know if I actually liked him, but I suspect I didn’t. I think I’m just really sad that Sherlock’s over and Doctor Who’s so far away (an anglophile girl can’t be expected to live on Fleming alone). Hmm. Maybe we could have made that work.
Get here soon, Doctor. You’re messing with my love life.
Precious Junk 