Totally representing where I’m at these days:
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Finally, someone has put a name to my personal texting pet peeve:
The Dangling Text: Nothing leaves someone to ponder their last correspondence more than the dangling text…it’s just out there cavorting amongst the airwaves unattended and unanswered. Whilst engaging in digital banter, keeping the pace is imperative. If you must abruptly return to the board meeting or tend to the whipper snappers, send a polite “/text” to inform your cohort that your attention is needed elsewhere and you will resume at a more convenient time. Not doing so is as rude as hanging up without saying good-bye…and that’s not okay either! (Eve-101)
I feel the same way about IM conversations where the other person just “hangs up” in the middle. Grrrrr! Rude!!
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This conversation took place entirely by text message.
MB: How’s work?
EC: Good Hows it going
MB: Good here. Just relaxing.
EC: Hey what are YOU doing tomorrow
MB: I think my oldest son is coming to visit. Then every Sunday night I go to Cantina Laredo with a friend. What are YOU doing tomorrow?
EC: You
MB: ???
EC: I am doing you :-)
Ummmmmm. Oh really? Says who, you moron? So I turn to sarcasm, which sails riiiiiiight over his head and outta the ballpark:
MB: Well be sure and let me know it turns out. ;-)
EC: So you had complaints before???
*thud*
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Woman (sarcastically): I'm sorry, I'm such a bitch.
Man: Hmm…
Woman: You think I'm a bitch, don't you?
Man: I didn't say that.
Woman: You didn't disagree with me.
Man: You know yourself better than I do.
Woman: I can't believe you called me a bitch.
Man: I didn't call you a bitch, you called yourself a bitch.
Woman: But you didn't tell me I'm not a bitch.
Man: Because you're acting like a bitch.
Woman: See? You think I'm a bitch!
Man: I said you were acting like a bitch.
Woman: Whats the difference?
Man: Dustin Hoffman acted like a retard, but it doesn't mean he is one.
Woman: I don't know what that's supposed to mean, but you're a dick for thinking I'm a bitch.
Man: Do you mean I'm acting like a dick or I am a dick?
Woman: Fuck you! (storms out)
Man: Too easy. Caramel Macchiato please!
(via Overheard Everywhere)
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So, last week, I found myself hitting up Match pretty hard. Normally, I find very little on there which rouses even a smidgen of interest from me; but somehow I wound up talking to several men simultaneously. But, of course, as these things usually go, one by one they all showed their colors pretty fast, and weeded themselves out.
The first described himself (via his Match and Yahoo nicknames) as a “sexy and tall CPA”. (He also happened to be black, which isn’t a mark against him at all, as I acquired “the fever” a couple years ago, and my temperature has yet to recede.)
We chatted a little on IM, and agreed to meet last Thursday night at a local sports bar near my home, at about 6:45 that evening.
I already knew from our conversation that he managed a large accounting department, and they were in the middle of month end close; as someone who spent nearly twenty years in the accounting field, I had a certain amount of sympathy for how much month end sucks. So, I wasn’t terribly surprised when he needed to push off our meeting until 8:15 instead. I simply hit up Eathan to come up there with me earlier, for food and talk, while I waited for the CPA to arrive.
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Here’s an email exchange with a guy who found my profile on Match:
From him (no subject, but signed with his name):
Liked the part about the intellectual conversation. Not many women with looks who are into that.
My first reply (question refers to his choice of headline):
Oh, I’m more into the conversation than my looks – which is probably even more rare, I imagine. :)
So, what exactly were you born 100 years too late for?
His reply (which included his phone number and hotmail address):
Wellll the 100 years thing is my way of expressing that the world is too much of a safe place. And what I mean by THAT is my idea of living on the edge is not some instructor holding on to me on my first skydiving lesson on the way down, or a guided tour of something that someone made to make money off me or standing around a turnout vista while 30 oriental tourists are snapping pics. There’s nothing left to explore, there’s no freedom, no REAL freedom, like just going off into an unchartered territory. World is too tame.
Thoughts?
My reply (which took a few days since I was irritated by his reference to the “oriental” tourists – who still uses that adjective in this politically correct era?):
Hmmm. Well if none of those things fit your idea of living on the edge, then what does? :)
His answer:
Great sex ;)
Huh? Is he serious? How is having great sex “living on the edge”?
Or is this just the typical case of a guy who’s only looking for a hookup, and so he’s bringing sex into the convo as quickly as possible?
Either way, I’m already turned off to him, and so I don’t know how/if to reply. I’m just that fickle, I guess.
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