Monday, April 08, 2013

A Case of Mistaken Identity

Via a series of text messages I received Saturday, the first one being:

Mommy ur daughter got my heart

I knew it was a wrong, though local, number when I saw the word "Mommy," a word that creeps me out when used by anyone over the age of, oh, 11 or so. Also, I don't have a daughter. Or any offspring I'm aware of.

This initial message was immediately followed by:
I like lea shes good girl nd that's wat I need she jus think ima hurt her like the rest

The name in question was close enough to my own first name that I'll admit I felt a bit defensive at this point, after some more months of dating, or trying to again, because woo, do I live in the land of 1,000 dodged bullets, baby. In this land, there are divorced friends of both genders bemoaning in every conversation how much being single, i.e., my life, sucks, mixed message men, various men complaining about how all women are gold diggers despite, by and large, what a canard that is, not to mention the presence of at least one lady (ahem) who isn't, men who, granted, are probably choosing me as their women-are-terrible sounding board because turns out that, oops, I fall into the category of undesirable for them and so I am therefore eligible to be regaled with invisible-making sentiments, men who vanish after a handful of emails, i.e., when it'd be a good time to meet in real life, men who then reappear months later, men who ask me out and don't follow through, why do they even keep asking, why do they think I don't know they don't follow through, men who mistake setting a date and time to get together for a binding commitment, men pointing out things like Janis Joplin being "ugly," this one not shaving her pubic hair the "right" way--hey, fella, it's called pubic hair, not public hair--and etc., tedium, still can't believe this stuff, can you even try to find the fun, gen x-ers, sheesh, sigh, etc.

She is my heart.

So of course you're texting this to...someone. Get off the phone and buy her a card, how '

Finally, hours later: Howz ur day goin sofar mommy inlaw

Mommy inlaw? Yikes. It was at this point that I ended this particular interaction, or tried to, entertaining as it was, by pointing out I have no idea who any of the people in question are.

This leaa mother.
Then: This Damien mommy jus checkn up on u maken sure my mother inlaw is ok.

Family plan, indeed.

Happy to be free,


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