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Should I text her? Probably should. It’s a Tuesday for God’s sake, so she’s not doing anything. It would be great to see her tonight. Then again, why not just wait a week? She slept over four days ago, man, give her some space. You don’t want to come off as annoying or desperate. Let’s just hit the gym, you’ll forget all about it. Maybe Blake will want to get beers with me after I’m done. The workout is good but you spend the majority of it thinking about her. In fact, the workout does the exact opposite of what you wanted. Your inflated sense of self now thinks that maybe you should send her a text. She’s probably waiting for me to reach out. You type a few drafts, being careful not to let your thumb hover over that Send button.
“What are you up to?”
“are you doing anything tonight”
“Do you want to get dinner with me this week?”
Notice the changes in capitalization. Way more laid back if you forgo proper punctuation. You decide on “hey wanna get dinner this week” after 15 minutes of back and forth. You hit send and immediately regret everything. “You’re a fucking idiot,” you think to yourself as you throw your gym clothes in the hamper. A pit forms in your stomach as you leave your phone on your bedside table and start the shower.
No point in sitting around staring at the goddamn phone. You’re no longer hungry. That protein you just drank post-workout is not helping the matter. The pseudo-nausea isn’t going to go away until you get a text back. Fifteen minutes goes by. You’re out of the shower, only to find that you don’t have any text messages. She’s probably fucking some guy right now. Don’t be ridiculous. She’s probably on her way home from work or hanging out with her friends. But what if she is? You’d never know. Why does this bother me? We’re not dating. You knew what this was going into it. Alright, I’m taking my phone off vibrate. You’re acting like a girl. Let’s eat something. Pasta again? Fucking A, I hate my life right now. Let’s see if Blake wants to get a beer down the street.
“Not tonight, man, I’m beat.”
I’m not responding to that. Guess I’ll just go fuck myself, Blake. Thanks for nothing. Fettuccine Alfredo and a Miller Lite for dinner. You’re a real piece of shit, you know that? I’m tossing this and drinking three for dinner. I don’t even care about her. Fuck it. She can do what she wants. But I do care. I’ve always cared. Even when she blows me off. Even when she tells me one thing and does the complete opposite.
And then, miraculously, the text comes in 45 minutes later that’s had your stomach doing somersaults.
“Yeah I’m free Tuesday or Wednesday”
Let’s wait ten minutes. Better make it twelve minutes. Don’t want it to seem obvious that I’m waiting. Fuck the read receipts are on. Fuck it. Just text her back.
“Cool, I’ll get at you tomorrow then.”
And relief washes over me in an awesome wave..
Respond
jduda@grandex.co
I got serious PTSD reading this. I need a shot of whiskey to calm my nerves right now.
“Not tonight, man, I’m beat” or “I’ve always cared. Even when she blows me off.” Who would you say is a bigger pussy? Blake or you?
Me. I listen to a lot more drake than Blake
That explains a lot. Fair enough.
Wow…I thought only women did this. It’s actually comforting.
Hit wayyyyyyy too close to home
Sup?
Many men do something like this, but Johnny D has proven to be incredibly feminine in his own words.Sonr bekeice most guys are this.
That sequence of sending out a feeler text while you’re feeling great during a workout followed by the immediate panic/second guessing is too real
Fuckin sendyyyyyyyyyy, bro.
Dads
I go through these exact same thoughts as a girl. Texting is hell.
You’re avi tells me you’re a strange looking girl
Oh that’s just angry Fran McCaffery. Can’t trust those profile photos.
Sure it is
Just let the text fly and leave the rest up to the dating Gods. Probably won’t work out in the long run, no point wasting 15 minutes figuring out what to say only to worry about it afterwards anyways.
Finally someone that understands. I used to worry about overly texting girls all the time. Constantly worrying about bothering them and if they were into me. Once I met someone that I was really into I decided that that shit was for the birds. You know what my now fiancé told me after we started dating? “I loved that you were always initiating the conversation and making me feel wanted.” Boom. Don’t be a pussy.
She must be a tall glass of water….
The second a man realizes that there isn’t some magical combination of words that will make a woman do something he wants her to do is the day he stops giving a shit about what his text says.
PSA to all guys: just use the damn punctuation, please, and I promise you we won’t get turned off.
I had a girl tell me it seemed like I was angry all the time because I actually used punctuation and ended my sentences with periods.
Same with current girlfriend. It’s weird, is all I have to say about it.
“Bobby was trying to properly fit his thumb on the period button that would have ended his text to the girl he liked while he was driving. Instead of his sentence, the only thing that ended, was his life.”
Instead of “Don’t text and drive”, don’t fall into the guilt trip of using correct punctuation all the time by girls who would get turned off by not placing that “.” At the end of your texts.
I look forward to one thing each Tuesday during my morning deposit.. Where’s the chase Johnny 🙁
Ended a 4 year relationship somewhat recently so was out of the dating game for a while. Still do this heart attack stuff from time to time, but lately I’ve been saying fuck it a lot more and letting the text fly… I will say it hasn’t been a bad ride lately. Maybe things do work better when you just voice what you want…? Can’t be
I find myself telling myself, “fuck it, just say it. See what happens. What’s the worst that could happen, they get upset? Who gives a fuck?” As you can see by reading my extremely enlightening comments throughout this blog.