Friends close to me know that I am always entertained by wrong number texting. Typically, when I receive them, I ignore them. Recently, I received this text from someone I don’t know:
“hey. can me and lucie eat all the ice cream and jump on the beds?”
That sounds like a splendid idea, so I replied, “yes”
I never heard from them again and hope everything worked out okay with the ice cream.
Much more entertaining was an exchange I had during the summer of 2011. It began in early July with a few missed phone calls from a number I never knew and a couple of random texts that I ignored. Although you can clearly hear MY voice saying MY name on MY voicemail message, she still left a couple messages for “Jim”. I don’t think I even know a Jim. The texts continued and I finally responded with “wrong number”. This continued over a couple of weeks.
wrong number. Wrong Number! WRONGNUMBER!!!!
You would think the average person would pause and check that they had the correct number. You would think. In the middle of the continued back and forth and with some encouragement from friends, I lost my sanity and lowered myself to the level of my texter.
Is her name Lisa or Melisa??!? Punctuation is so important, folks!
A number of weeks have passed at this point since the first communication, now legally considered harassment. In August, I did everything I could to block the caller/texter. I was able to block the calls, but not the texts. On August 26, I adopted that old motto that everyone has heard: If you can’t beat them, join ‘em. It was a total game changer.
During the text exchanges on this day, I was traveling in Atlanta for work. After the work week ended, I headed to visit my best friend in Alabama for the weekend before returning to Florida where I lived at the time. I had a great time visiting her and her husband and while I won’t disclose if they encouraged me to continue the communication madness, I will say that not all of the comments/questions that came next in the exchange were originally mine. It was relieving for me to have the crazy I had been enduring become validated by my friends.
I have no idea where I was getting picked up from or where home was, but I knew something big was about to happen.
Oh boy, somebody is going to be disappointed about those plums.
This is when the shit hits the fan or the road or something is going to hit something. It’s going down.
(I really was in Huntsville.)
I like how the language changes quickly into sanskrit. What exactly does “yw 9ww ihav” mean? Part of me felt pretty darn bad at this point. Part of me figured that Melisa/Lisa should have figured this out by now. Part of me did not care anymore. (Sorry about your eye.)
And then finally….the next day, the angels sang. A miracle!
Thank you Melisa/Lisa! Thank you.
It was a very, very short lived miracle.
I was so excited that she finally understood and had removed me. And then 5 days later, like a homing pigeon with a message about karma, she was back.
Things take a turn for the worse. I am now in the hospital. There’s good news, though. I still have a girlfriend. Oh yeah, and Littlegirl says meow.
I am somewhat curious as to why I am ill. Melisa/Lisa has referred to me as a player. Urban Dictionary defines player as, “A male who is skilled at manipulating (“playing”) others, and especially at seducing women by pretending to care about them, when in reality they are only interested in sex.” Maybe my girlfriend beat me up? Or her husband? Maybe Littlegirl scratched me and now I have an infection?
At this point, I am distratught. Melisa/Lisa clearly does not care for me. She never really pays me enough attention to understand me and when she gets angry, she curses at me in sanskrit. I just can’t take it anymore and ignore her evil texting.
I don’t know why, but for some reason, I need new underwear and that is very concerning. Bill Cosby must have been right.
It all ended after the last message I ever sent to her. I will miss Melisa/Lisa. She will forever be in my blog.