So I have been talking to a boy–wait, yes, I know that is rather exciting and all that, we will go into that later–that I like for almost the past two months and things have been flirty with a sprinkling of sexy…with the occasional stumble into awkwardness (I would be the one doing the stumbling, of course). But it has been good. He’s hot and funny and into me and so hot, but mixed signals abound (because they seem like they always do–yet another post to unravel that mystery) and it doesn’t help that I have this weird combination of distrust and fear and impatience when it comes to all this boy meets girl shit.
Anyway, I texted said guy (I have not come up with a nom de plume for him yet) this afternoon, a breezy and flirty text that was not replied to at all for hours. I got irritated and decided against my better judgement to compose another text about five hours later to send him regarding the first text. This is the panic that ensued, captured in live time in a Facebook Messenger conversation with one of my best friends:
Me (7:02 pm): So…there’s that moment when you’re trying to come up with a text and it’s what you are thinking but not wanting to send…AND THEN YOU ACCIDENTALLY HIT SEND.
Michelle (7:04 pm): Oh no!!!!
Me (7:05 pm): Oh no indeed!!!
(7:06 pm): And you want to text back immediately bc you are embarrassed and mortified but you decide that entertaining an embarrassed apology or explanation would make you look crazy.
(7:06 pm): And if said recipient of text had responded hours earlier, I wouldn’t have accidentally sent a rough draft text.
(7:08 pm): So now I sit here feeling like an idiot and not replying bc I’m going to act like “yup, I sent that”.
Michelle (7:08 pm): Oh man. That is sucky.
(I’m guessing my panic is amusing because I’m sure it’s not really a big deal but it so is.)
Me (7:09 pm): And the silence.
(7:09 pm): It makes things worse bc I want to fall into a vicious cycle of word vomit to try to explain my way out of the text but that will only back me further into the corner like a lioness.
(I am pretty bummed that I could not find a witty GIF of a lioness backed into a corner.)
Michelle (7:10 pm): Yeahhhh don’t do that then you’re just gonna look like you’re talking to yourself.
Me (7:11 pm): Right. I don’t want to look crazy.
(7:11 pm): And I’m like “this is why I’m alone, I’m crazy”.
So he still hasn’t replied and he probably thinks I’m insane. Hopefully he finds my crazy endearing. Ugh. I’m seriously going to die an old spinster woman who can’t knit or embroider and who is allergic to cats.
At least I’ll always have you, Netflix. You get me.