The 90's Called, They Want Their Prank Back

Yesterday I received a prank call. I dealt with it in an adult fashion, trying not to snicker too much, notifying the caller that he had the wrong number, and hanging up rather than continue to feed the troll. A good friend suggested something less mature, but far more amusing, that I could have said. My sister suggested something else, also amusing, but not likely to solve the problem.

Keep all that in mind as you read my responses to the text I received this evening, from the same local mobile number.

     Heyo yet [sic, I say, sic to infinity!] have Cheyenne duffys number

     No but she said she's got the strap-on ready. U gotta bring the lube this time. Yolo

     What the f*?

     She says she likes em big and black. She's out, man. Just grab some KY on the way.

     Mkay lets go

     Gotta get rid of some1 first. Cops are all up in my grill bout that junk you gave me.

     Well don't get caught next time and that won't happen

     K, they're gone, but don't kill me man, they just wanna ask you a couple questions, y'know?

     Yea i got the lube lets go

     Where you at, boo?

     My house

     I'm with L~ and H~, you better get your ass down here b4 we start without you.

     Im stuck here you come here

At this point I wondered what I was doing. I'm an adult, and here I was in a text-hijacking battle with what I assumed to be a random teenager. Not to mention the kid kept tripping me up by playing along. How long was I willing to keep this up? And how the hell could I win?

Competitive Streak: 1
Good Sense: 0

     L~ has my pants, I'm stuck too

     Sucks to suck

     You oughtta ask Cheyenne bout that, you know what I mean?

     No I Don't have her number

Damn, good one. I had to ponder that, and this time my friend didn't have any witty comebacks for me. She did, however, have Cat Facts. For the one of you out there who doesn't love clicking link trails, a brief summary (and my response to I Don't have her number):

     Thanks for signing up for Cat Facts! You will now receive fun daily facts about CATS! >o<

     Okay

Wait, Okay? That's not how it's supposed to go! I decided to make the best of it and regaled my new text-buddy/subscriber with interesting facts, such as:

     Cats use their tails for balance and have nearly 30 individual bones in them!

     That's cool

Really? Oh, a tough one, are you? Yes, actually. It was a Troll battle, me giving cat facts, him remarking that they were interesting, me asking him to prove he's human by stating his favorite animal, him answering with Cat. It was a full hour before I received Who the f* is this, which I admit I'd been hoping for much sooner.

I replied with a Cat Fact. And since he hadn't responded to my offer to cancel hourly Cat Facts, I sent another one an hour later. And another an hour after that, with another opportunity to cancel.

     Cats bury their feces to cover their trails from predators. [To cancel Cat Facts reply 'dghdfjnhddhtd56666443hgfdfefuutregjbvcyu65468990']

     'dghdfjnhddhtd56666443hgfdfefuutregjbvcyu65468990']

Yes! I was finally getting somewhere! Maybe we could end this peacefully, after all. But alas, I'm a smart-ass, and so I asked for confirmation.

     Are you sure you want to cancel? Life without Cat Facts is not as fulfilling. [Reply YES to cancel]

     No

     Thanks for signing up for Cat Facts. You will continue to receive Cat Facts every [hour].

Only I didn't make it another hour. This being the real world, I got a phone call shortly after the Cat Facts renewal, from a very sleepy-sounding, very confused-sounding, woman. So I had to be a grown-up again. I related a brief account of having received a call and multiple texts from that number, from a teenage boy, and then apologized for having disturbed her so late at night.

Whoops.

The "F" Word

No, the other "F" word. The one that people don't like to hear from the subject of their romantic interest. Yes, that one. But let's go on.

The movie was great. I wasn't expecting the Harry/Hermione topless makeout scene, no matter that I'd been warned, then smirked at (a sign that H~ was serious and looking forward to being proven right). They did a good job of condensing a 500-page camping trip into something epic. You're not here for a movie review, though.

My date didn't look directly at me the entire night. I'm not unfortunate-looking and had been complimented via text-message on my Facebook picture, so I know it wasn't because my face was offensive. I looked pretty damned good, actually. I can understand not being as talkative in person as you are in text, considering I'm the same way, but you know the silence has gone on too long when your date turns on the car stereo.

Not to say we didn't manage to talk. At one point I was retelling the glory of Prom Night in Hollywood and Other Interesting Tales, and we compared the kind of history you learn in the Midwest versus the kind you learn in Southern California, but conversation aside, no sparks. Not one. Even if my date had nice teeth there would have been no sparks.

I'm grateful to the friend who tried to set us up. Texting was genius and I could see hanging out with this person again. No romance though, and that's why I haven't accepted a second offer to go see the Effing Trans-Siberian Orchestra. I am not shitting you, if you'll pardon the language. This person offered to buy me an inexpensive tv because mine is in storage, mentioned us stargazing at their place with their telescope, subscribed to my effing YouTube (which they'd have had to find first), and commented on three of my pictures.

Quoth a friend: That's what happens when you talk to computer savvy people.

The consensus is that searching someone is normal. However, most of us keep our searches secret. We go look at our blind date's photos, or maybe we even Google their screen name, and if we're a little crazy watch the videos they made five years ago, but for God's sake, don't leave messages on everything until you've known them at least a week. This person has now added me on Facebook, YouTube, AIM, and YIM, commented on the only three photos that don't actually have people in them, subscribed to my videos, and told me via text what they thought about these things they found. Add to that the fact that I get texted from noon until probably five, then again from about seven until I say I have to go to bed, and I'm feeling smothered. From someone I've seen in person once, known less than a week, and haven't ever made eye contact with.

So I've been looking for gentle ways to let this person down. We got along, but I'm not interested in romance. From them. The Almighty Internet says that we haven't known each other so long that an e-mail is a crappy way to send a tasteful note, but how can I do that when I just keep getting texted? I'd say stalker potential, but I'm counting on the fact that we live a good hour and a half drive apart to discourage that.

If it wasn't a mutual friend who'd set us up, this would be easy. I'd just send a text that they're great, but I'm not interested, and it would be done. I don't want to hurt my friend, though. She hand-picked someone, knowing how long it's been since I dated, and said, Here, I give you this, my friend, who I, your friend, find worthy for your attentions. She couldn't have predicted all this.

I usually make a huge deal out of things, but this is justified, right? Even after just one date?

Nervescitement

I am near puking with nerves/excitement, which I will hereafter refer to as nervescitement. (I totally made that word up, it doesn't exist on Google. Seriously.)

I am not antisocial so much as asocial. I'm pretty withdrawn, and I rarely seek company, which is a cycle that feeds upon itself. People know this about me, and so they don't invite me to things. I don't get invited to things, so I miss out on the social opportunity and continue to be unsure of myself in company, or at least I feel that way. Apparently I'm perfectly normal, despite the tension constantly coursing through my body.

But let's skip the potential diversion into Freud's theories and my childhood.

I don't date, which is mostly situational. Family still occasionally tell me they know someone, and I roll my eyes and they say that I should meet this person, then never mention it again or tell me later that it wouldn't have worked anyway. I'm talking extended family though, not the sibling and cousin who still occasionally threaten to buy me an hour's "entertainment" from someone of questionable moral character. I know, I could've said hooker, but I am completely in love with metaphors.

So when a friend texted me that they knew someone, I rolled my eyes. I was given basic information that this mystery person likes Harry Potter, classic rock, and the movie Labyrinth, and I gave the typical mhm, yeah, whatever type of response. I was told to look this person up on Facebook. Yeah, sure. I was told to text this person and then given a number.

Hold the phone, there. Text?

Texting is not intimidating. It's something I do regularly, and it gives me time to proofread before speaking and, if necessary, to censor myself. When you're face-to-face with a stranger and you're supposed to be making small-talk, when they give you a two-word answer, you can't go do something else for five minutes, then scroll through previous conversation for something amusing to refer back to. Or, at least, I can't.

I'm a master at dropping conversation when it's with someone I don't know well. Then, once I open up, I give mini-speeches like these. My sister rolls her eyes at my stories, as though she doesn't tell them, too. My friends, who I eventually realize have gone mostly silent, with the occasional witty comment, apparently enjoy the show. "It's cute."

But back on topic. Since texting doesn't intimidate me, I did it. I texted and was witty and charming and all the things I am online, with the buffer of the computer screen and the time to phrase things perfectly. The moment things began to slow, I said I had to go, leaving before the conversation went stale.

So after two days of this, I've been text-asked to go see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows this weekend. My mental conversation with myself went something like this:

me1: You don't know this person and you're going somewhere with them?!
me2: Yeah, that's what dates are for. DUH. You'll be perfectly safe.
me1: Unless they're a serial killer!
me2: They mod a Christian website, and a sweet, personable friend referred you. They've been screened.
me1: Meh. But what if I make a total nerd of myself?
me2: They like Potter, Star Wars, Star Trek, and Lord of the Rings. I think you're safe.
me1: Omg, they're a nerd. I'm so out of their league.
me2: You have recently decided that cosplay looks like fun, you hypocrite.
me1: Touché. But what if I get shy and come across as a snob, which you know happens a lot.
me2: Deathly Hallows.
me1: But...
me2: Deathly. Hallows.
me1: *can think of no further arguments*

So I'm going out. On a date. With someone I don't know. I won't tell you how long it's been since I went on anything remotely like a date (aside from the time I was tricked into a date, but that's another story). We may put away childish things, but the second someone from the opposite sex is involved, it's high school all over again.

OMG I AM GOING ON A DATE. WTF AM I THINKING? Do I need to clean my apartment? How long should I hide all of this from my family/daughter? What if I fall back into serial monogamy? (Which, for me, was insta-attachment, two years, then BAM!Over. Twice.) OMG I HAVE A FRIGGIN TWIN BED. Which is the most ridiculous thought of all, considering my personality, my values, this person's values as a good Christian, and that we haven't even met yet.

me1: OMG! I don't even go to church! I'm practically a heathen! I'm not worthy!
me2: Calm the hell down! Not all Christians think everyone but them is a godless sinner!
me1: But what if they expect me to go to Church?!
me2: OMG SHUT UP!!!
me1: *whimper*

So, making a mountain out of a molehill, but it's an adventure, right? :p