When you start trying to rekindle things with past prospects, you start remembering why they never quite made the leap from Mr. Right Now to Mr. Right. Most of them are at best intolerable, and at worst deserve to die in a fire. I sent a text message one night to a cute med student I had met over the summer, feigning interest in how his life had been going...and opened the Pandora's box of texts, phone calls, and IMs. I have no problem with 500 text messages a day, provided the guy has something witty/smart/cute/interesting to say (hello, I literally have tried to snort attention off of a hooker's ass). 95% of the time, they do not. Nothing this med student had to say fell into the magical 5%.
Sample conversation (which happened approximately 60 different times):
Him- Wanna come over and watch a movie?
Me- You live kind of far. You could come here.
Him- I'm already all cozy in my bed. You can climb in with me. We can cuddle.
Me- I don't even like to cuddle.
Him- You never want to hang out with me.
No shit I never want to hang out with you. That's because you never suggest anything even remotely appealing to do. All of your suggestions involve me riding the train for 45 minutes into the ghetto, to hang out at your apartment (which probably doesn't even have couches) and cuddle with you. And let's be honest, when you SAY cuddle you MEAN you're going to try and date rape me for 2 hours before finally awkwardly passing out.
Listen, I'm not saying you have to get me a 200 dollar dinner before I have sex with you; I've had sex with people for Taco Bell. What I'm saying is that your hang out suggestion makes you seem incredibly, incredibly boring. You seem like the kind of guy whose idea of an epic Saturday night is watching ESPN with your friends in your apartment with two cases of Busch, before you drunk dial your ex girlfriend and cry to her for a half an hour. You also seem like you hate effort, in every sense of the word, as demonstrated by your inability to leave your apartment ever. Which means if I were to somehow sleep with you, I would enjoy about 7 minutes of sex. And enjoy is really pushing it.
And maybe it's my fault for texting you one fucking time asking how you were doing. Maybe that one generic text gave you the impression that you should try to get me to come to your apartment on a daily basis. And maybe I really wasn't clear enough when I said "No, I'm not going to go to your apartment." or when I said "No, I'm never coming to your apartment." or when I said "No, you're completely retarded for thinking I am ever coming to your apartment."
The next time this lazy jackass asks me to come to his damn apartment, you know what? I'm gonna do it. And I'm going to nail his roommate, then leave. Guess it might be worth the trip after all.
Call an escort service. She'll come to your apartment,
Ivy
