4 Scenarios I Imagine When You Don't Text Back

When you don’t text me back right away, I play it cool like I don’t even care. I’m all, whatever, he really likes me, it doesn’t mean anything. A little later and still no text, I’m like, ugh I have better people to be texting anywayyy. But when a few hours go by and I still don’t get a reply, four very specific scenarios go through my mind.

1. You discovered your soul mate in that weird java coding class you take on Wednesdays and you’ve swept her away to Las Vegas to consummate your love. Your phone is, of course, turned off on the airplane and reception in casino chapels is always patchy – thus creating low odds I’ll get a text back.

2. You took a shortcut through an alley on your way home from the office only to be roughed up by thugs, robbed, shanked, and left for dead. Crimson blood pours from your eyes and ears and your mangled, broken arms make it impossible to reach into your pocket for your phone. As you slip in and out of consciousness, you can only murmur Kaaa... Kaaa... in the hopes that Siri might hear your grief and place your call sans touch.

3. You have been personally invited to lead the President of the United States on a midnight Segway tour through the pentagon. Your swanky department of defense job paired with your talent for tour-giving makes you the perfect guide for POTUS to become reacquainted with the building and its slippery hallways. You’d reply, but you don’t want to offend the prezzie or anything. Plus, it’s kind of hard to text from a Segway. They have a delicate equilibrium you wouldn’t want to disrupt with frenzied thumb-tapping.

 4. I stole your charger last night to plug in my phone so yours died at work today. You make it home safe and sound with every intention of charging your mobile device, but the beer in the fridge is calling your name and the lean cuisine in your freezer isn’t going to microwave itself, so you toss your phone on the bed and go about your evening like a normal person. You heat up dinner, open an IPA, turn on ESPN, and forget about the fact that there’s a girl 2.2 miles away who maybe wants reassurance that you’re not dead in an alley or exchanging vows in an Elvis chapel.

Texting with Boys

I feel validated. And yes, it’s because of a man. Sorry feminists.

He’s a stranger in theory. A stranger who I locked lips with because we felt like it. Because why not? He reminded me of that blonde guy from Sweet Home Alabama minus the southern accent. Or maybe he had one? I don’t remember – we didn’t talk much. And that was that.

But then what? A few errant texts. A lot of nothingness thumbed between phones. I got antsy. I wanted more. And didn’t want to be forgotten or ignored. So I made my move.

Despite carefully crafting my text to sound casual and cool, I still regretted it the instant I pressed send. I watched the little blue thought bubble appear in our chat, feeling anxious and stupid and unsure of myself. I felt rejected before I was even rejected because I seemed crazy. He’d sent all oneliners and I respond with a six line chunk of text (that's practically a novel in iphone world!) asking him out on a date?!? Who does that? Crazy girls. Crazy girls do that.

But then. Then! That glorious ellipsis. Oh thank you iphone for letting me know instantly that this stranger slash new friend has received my message and chosen to respond. It’s so painfully pathetic of me to watch and wait and watch and wait but still. It came! The "yes". The "of course". The "you’re-silly-I-was-going-to-ask-you-but-you-beat-me-to-it" text. All the best words combined together in the best sentence reaffirming my desirability. I was good enough to kiss, but this, this is better. This says I’m good enough to have a conversation with. I’m good enough to go out with. I'm worth getting to know beyond the taste of my strawberry chapstick.

I know, I know. I shouldn’t need some silly boy to remind me of my worth, but sometimes, it's just that simple.