“What are your Inauguration plans?” Living in DC, the new home of our president-elect, this question is harder to avoid than most things.
“What are your Inauguration plans?” Living in DC, the new home of our president-elect, this question is harder to avoid than most things.
Inspired by Mindy Kaling’s book-because she’s just the sh*t.
Death. A morbid subject, yet inevitable to all. I have been to countless wakes and funeral in my lifetime, sadly. Distant cousins, grandmothers, an uncle to a friend of a friend who my dad knew on the board of directors for our youth basketball league. I mourned the loss of my friend’s goldfish one time in the 2nd grade. We cried as it swirled down the toilet bowl.
As I’m perpetually overwhelmed with sadness during these “mourning ceremonies,” if you will, my mind does doze off occasionally to completely selfish thoughts.
Happy Thanksgiving you filthy animals.
I’m spending my Thanksgiving in Brooklyn with family, so to fight the FOMO about missing out on Thanksgiving Eve festivities with friends, I decided to do a bit of “social experiment,” if that’s what you’d like to call it. I only expected to do it to one or two guys, but then it just spread like wildfire. I couldn’t help myself.
Everyone reading this very familiar with Tinder, the glorified hook up app. So, since I know zero people in this area, I decided to strike up some interesting conversations with complete strangers. Inspired by How To Lose A Guy In One Tinder, I hope I can provide you with some comic relief on this glorious holiday. Apologies to those victimized, but I am certainly #thankful and #blessed for you providing me with entertaining conversations and endless laughs.
What did I learn? I can act as crazy as I’d like to, it doesn’t matter. The thirst is real.
Kindly read the conversations from left to right.
Meet Victim #1. He poses with girls in his Tinder pictures. And, his nose is growing, “like pinokio.”
How kind of you to have a romantic dinner planned for me when I come knocking on your door looking for your non-existent girlfriend like a complete psychopath.
Meet Victim #2. His grammar is immaculate and he’s charming as hell 🙂 Every girl’s dream.
I guess that makes two of us who are constipated with our “faces stuck in one position.” Also, since you’ve slept with 7 and a HALF women, do you consider me half or whole of a woman? Jw lmao lmk thx.
Wait, so does this mean take back the comment about me getting chewed up by the tigers in my Tinder picture (which are actually lions) because you still want to hook up? I’m confused. Lmk, thx.
Meet Victim #3: He’ll tell you that you look like Angelina Jolie and mean it ❤
So, first you said I don’t look Angelina Jolie at all. Maybe just slightly. Well, no, I look similar, but maybe just in person. Actually, no, just in my second picture we look alike. Ok. Good to know.
I’m off to bigger and better things. You gave me all of the confidence I need. All I need to find is my Brad Pitt and a few adorable orphans to adopt. Hollywood, here I come!
Victim #4 is willing to help a stranger in need…as long as he can talk to me on the phone first.
Have you asked your parents if its OK yet? I’m cool, I swear.
This guy’s cool. He has pumpkin and apple pie. And his friend’s parents love to salsa. What’s better than that?
Well, so do you want me to leave the savory pumpkin pie that I made at home? That’s kind of rude. And, what if I don’t know how to salsa? Will I feel left out? Do you think we could split the Uber taxi?
Hey Victim #6 thank you for understanding my butterfly obsession.
I was hoping we could paint our future kitchen red, but beige with oak cabinets sounds good too. We can compromise I suppose.
“I don’t think there’s a need for pills.” The WebMD of Tinder. Thanks for backing me up cutie pie 🙂
And here’s my Angelina Jolie friend again.
Ok bye, friend. I’ll miss you.
If you ‘d like to participate in this Tinder game with me, it’s fun. Email me at email@example.com or message me on Facebook. I’ll feature your sicko conversations in my next post!
I say this all the time, but I seriously hate texting. I hate it. The only thing I actually enjoy about it are the emojis, but even those annoy me because I’ve definitely taken years off of my life searching through all the stupid categories to find the one I want to send.
That being said, I am always texting. I am always glued to my phone texting away, losing brain cells in the process. I would probably throw up knowing how many texts I send a day. And, I would probably, like, hide away under my covers for the rest of my life knowing the content of the texts I send while I’m drunk.
Why do I loathe texting? I don’t know. Maybe because it makes us all go bat sh*t crazy for no apparent reason. When you text, you’re hiding behind your silly little iPhone, as if it’s a shield protecting you from everything that’s bad in the world. Words flow from your fingers like word vomit. You simply can’t stop. Type as fast as you want, autocorrect has got your back-well, sometimes.
I touched on this texting subject in my blog about how girl’s overthink everything and that it will eventually lead to the complete wipeout of the female race all together. OK, maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but texting has definitely given us more headaches and heartaches than personal satisfaction.
Let’s start out with talking about our hook up culture. I, myself, have invested in what I like to call a “texting relationship.” This particular guy was enjoyable to talk to, we hung out a few times, but whatever relationship we had evolved through text. Our culture would call this, “talking.” “Talking,” in my opinion is a step above strictly, “hooking up.” When you “talk” you text soberly throughout the week and genuinely enjoy what each other has to say. It’s pure entertainment. You enjoy the idea that the guy looks at you then more than a booty call on the weekends. He likes talking–I mean texting you. Some people even “talk,” and “hook up,” simultaneously which should classify as some level of dating, right? Wrong. Nobody’s trying to get labeled as a stage 5 clinger here. Consistently sleeping with the same guy while enjoying his company and talking to him all of the time certainly does NOT mean you are dating. You’re just “talking,” and “hooking up,” duh.
Every girl is some level of crazy, and I think I’m going to attribute ALL of that to the texting culture. Texting has evolved from what used to be a short and simple 160 message via mobile phone, to a complicated science worthy of hours and hours of thinking about. You know that saying, “Its not rocket science”? Like, no, texting is rocket science and so much more. It’s rocket science mixed with the most abstract painting imaginable and the most difficult mathematical equation known to man. Einstein couldn’t even figure out this sh*t. It’s a science, an art, and an equation all mixed into one textual message. You could basically call it the bane of our existence.
Where shall we start? Let’s go with timing.
Timing is everything. So, I’ll use my example as one to work with. This guy that I was “talking,” to took forever to text back. I just couldn’t grasp the idea that he wasn’t always looking at his phone. I mean, who isn’t constantly glued to their phone anxiously waiting for some new and exciting notification to pop up on their home screen?? It’s like Christmas morning every time. (Joking, or am I?) Anyways, he would take a while to text me back, but I would always respond immediately, just because I’m always on my phone, naturally. This was totally unlike me and I totally broke so many rules by doing this. We get some weird satisfaction out of waiting to text back simply because the other person took a while. We stare at our phones, checking the time every 5 minutes, constantly debating when is an appropriate to respond.
“So, what is a good time to respond that doesn’t label me as crazy, clingy, obsessive, annoying, and not super interested yet still shows that I’m super interested?”
Basically what you’re asking is, “What is an appropriate time period to text back to show that I have a life outside of texting you yet all I am thinking about is texting you.” Timing is everything. It’s all about practicing self control and resisting the temptation, but there is a strong magnetic connection between your fingers and your iPhone, so sometimes, the universe just won’t let you wait. But, please, lets just try to pretend you have a life outside of your iPhone, even if you don’t.
The content of your message.
When constructing a text message, like I said before, it’s often like word vomit. He might have just said, “How’s your day?” That just opens the flood gates. You just want to tell him EVERYTHING. Your fingers vigorously type against the screen and then you realize how long your message actually is. “Ugh, no, he asked how my day was. He doesn’t actually want to know how my day is going. We’re not dating. So I’ll just respond with, ‘Good, how about you?'” There’s no way he can label you as crazy, clingy, or annoying with a response like that. You’re cool, calm, and collected. Although, ALL YOU WANT TO DO is tell him that your day is fantastic and you got the scholarship you applied for and you finally lost 5 pounds and you saw your ex and his new downgrade. Life is just going so well for you right now, but “good,” will suffice. Again, I sucked at that. I would go into detail about my day, and did he actually care about how I got accepted to write for Her Campus? I have no idea. Keep it simple, because you are ~*kEwL and ChiLl*~ and totally not clingy.
This is actually the worst intro to a conversation ever. And, for the first time, I’m going to call out the guys. I’ve gotten so many “hey” text messages from guys over the years. Are we in middle school? Are we using AIM? “Hey” “Hey nmh jc” “Same” “Cool, ttyl.” Would you approach a girl at the bar and just say, “hey”? If you did, you can bet I am going to run away from you. No where in the book of texting rules is “Hey” ever a good text to send. No where. It’s right next to the rule that says “Lol” and “lmao” aren’t acceptable either, unless your ass actually fell off in the process of laughing.
Double, triple, quadruple (do I need to go further?) texting.
Woof. Such a tricky area. None are socially acceptable if you’re just “talking,” to a guy. If you’re the last text in your message thread, he should be the next one. It should be a consistent pattern of blue/white/blue/white and maybe green/white/green/white, if you have made the conscious decision to trust a guy with an Android. Double texting is sometimes OK, if the last conversation died out and the next day you want to start a new one, if you must. Rumor has it, he’ll text you if he wants to talk to you, and if you commit the double texting crime too much, then you’re getting too attached. However, triple and quadruple texting, I can’t vouch for you. The texting relationship is over, sorry.
Wooooffffffff. I’d like to think this was the demise of every texting relationship I’ve ever had. Word vomit via text is controllable when you are sober, most of the time. You allow yourself to take a deep breath and delete what you spent countless minutes typing because, you know, you’re trying to avoid the whole “clingy and crazy” label. However, drunk? Eh, not so much. Drunk texts are uncensored and usually emotional. No guys like emotions. Even if you have been texting and hooking up nonstop for the past 6 months and want to know how he feels. Nope. No emotions allowed, remember? The drunk texts I’ve sent have been pretty emotional, the thoughts that I crossed my mind one too many times flood the text screen and I press send. ~*nO rAgretZz*~ The line between the words we want to say but shouldn’t say gets totally disregarded as soon as we have a few drinks in us. Being honest, what a brutal crime to commit. However, the method I’ve been going with in coping with the regrets of sending a drunk text is simply deleting it. If you delete a drunk text, it never happened. Right?
Read this whole thing and you’ll realize this is why I hate texting. We try to get to know each other through an iPhone screen and develop superficial relationships that we end up reading way too much into. Every text that gets sent always has to have some sort of deeper meaning to it. Maybe he actually wants to know how your day is. Maybe he enjoys what you have to say. Or, maybe, you can just say what you want to say regardless of what he thinks. If he’s going to label you as annoying, crazy, or clingy judging on a text you send, then in my opinion, he’s not worth your time. He waited an hour to text you? OMG he hates you!!!!! Actually, maybe, he has a life outside of his iPhone. You respond immediately? You’re a pyscho. No, actually maybe you just had your phone on you and have the ability to text back sooner than he does.
In my personal experience, I still don’t know how this particular guy felt about me. We seemed to enjoy each other’s company when we hung out, and he always said he wanted to see me again, but I couldn’t read him. I was overthinking every aspect of whatever relationship we had simply because it was all through texting. Every text he sent, every minute that passed in between our conversations made me question if he was ever into it all. I drunk texted him a couple of times. I drunk texted him every sober thought that came to my mind. Does this make me crazy or clingy? I’m not sure. But I was being honest. I was getting tired of developing a superficial relationship through texting. Does this mean I wanted to date him? No. Does this mean I expected to date him? No. It meant that I was tired of avoiding the whole idea of us constantly “talking” all day every day and not addressing why we were doing so. Having a texting buddy is fun for some time, but feelings are always going to come into play at some point. You’re always going to wonder why you enjoy talking to this person so much and why they enjoy talking to you too. Trying to figure out a person via text is simply impossible, but we do it all the time.
Texting isn’t supposed to be a complicated equation, but we’ve turned it into one. If a guy wants to get to know you, then he’ll extend it beyond an iMessage, and if he’s too shy to do that, then move on.
That being said, don’t triple or quadruple text. C’mon, you’re better than that.