What Happens When You Connect With Your Missed Connection

Realizing I had not only gone way overboard, but borderline nonsensical as the night went on, I decided I could salvage the situation… by blaming it on someone else.

And my friends took my phone. Sorry.

My friends hadn’t laid a finger my phone. If anything, they tried to talk me out of continuing to text him and shot me some very worried looks when I caved and sent several salacious texts to Anthony as well. After plugging in my phone for a few minutes so I could engage in a too-loud drunken call with Anthony to argue about why it was stupid for him to call me to tell me he was too tired to have sex with me that night, I left my friend’s place in Greenpoint to go home. I managed to tap out one last coherent message as I walked to the train… It is 3am and I want to get fucked. Stop being a buzzkill and wake up.

I don’t remember sending any of these texts when I wake up in the morning. I don’t even remember how I got home. Once the room stops spinning and I’m finally able to focus on my iPhone without feeling as if I’m on the verge of puking, I see the nicest possible response waiting for me: Sorry – was sleeping.

I scroll up, reviewing the messages I’d sent. “Well,” I think, horrified by my brazen attempt to score some sub-par dick the night before, “that’s the end of that.” A substantial part of me is praying I’ve finally gone too far and really fucked things up; that we’ll never talk again. I was waaaaasted. My apologies.

I don’t know why I’m writing back. Blaming it on the liquor makes it seem like I’m genuinely repentant as opposed to merely embarrassed.

Haha, no worries. He’s quick to laugh it off, and the phrase “no worries” pushes the last button necessary for me to recognize that the time has come to wash my hands of him.

Nearly two weeks pass. Maybe the silence becomes too much for him, because one day I get a simple “Heyo” out of the blue.

I’m trying to stop sleeping with men I don’t like, so I don’t respond. Several weeks later he attempts to test the water again. I’m over it; so again, I don’t respond — hoping this will help him understand just how over it I actually am.

Certain that I’ve shaken him off, I don’t give him a second thought — until he texts me yet again. This time, I’m sitting at dinner with a friend. Would u want to hang out again sumtime?