Texting with Bang-Buddies: Self Esteem's Guillotine

Texting with Bang-Buddies: Self Esteem's Guillotine

First of all, I'll just start out by saying- all girls are freaking NUTS.  Like- clinically nuts.  Per me, and all men.  "Here take this life test-  you all failed. You're crazy. All of you. Oh God- please don't cry..." -- is what I feel like men think about women every damn day, from when their feet hit the ground, to when they rest their logical, math-minded brains at night.

If we didn't have glory-hole genitalia and good-smelling hair, I can't imagine any dude would put up with us.  Ok- so feminists will kill me for this.  Maybe lesbians too. But whatever, I have huge boobs and I've read the Feminine Mystique, Okay?  I'm like- allowed to say this.  And this specific rant is about the text exchanges between a man and a woman who are doing sex, or trying to, or at least one person wants to, and it's that simple.  Plus- I didn't even vote last election, so suck it, Susan B.  I'm actually here to say that we probably shouldn't even be allowed to vote in case we're on our period or our shirt doesn't match, or someone didn't cat-call us loud enough to make us feel beautiful when we left the Jewel with just frozen burritos and toilet paper which is gross anyway, and then we vote for someone whose platforms we don't even know about,  but we think that our vote might offset some other chick's opposing vote, who did, in fact, get cat-called, so fuck her.  Tax dollars at work.  I'm here to say that we as a species, women, need to chill the fuck out.

This is the opposite of one of those things where I'm a girl, and I say, "You go, girls," because, girls, seriously, stop.

What "potential scenarios" do we imagine, assume, and create with the people with whom we share coital relations while we're attempting to communicate?  All the most insane, lofty scenarios, with either great expectations or surefire and negative finality.  As a very close friend pointed out, it's like we as women create these plans of what is going to happen, in our minds, after we send that one little text, and how it will unfold.  And then- if the dude in question doesn't respond exactly accordingly, and also without knowing said plan, he is an asshole. NEXT!  Give some people a break, you know?  I've talked to dudes about this, and after the age of fifteen...it's kind of a known-thing we ladies do.  They're all terrified; the men are, that either they can't measure up to the mystery plan, or worse, they're in one that they didn't see coming and now they're stuck in some way.  No one wants to be trapped or stuck, and that is no way to get your way.  But I mean - look at Anna Nicole Smith (RIP); she pretty much forced her way into a situation with her cooch and tits and stuff, and scored tons of cash.  That poor old man thought they were in love.  I guess "LIKE MAH BODY?" takes on a whole different meaning when the body is a burglar cloaked by orgasm or pole-dancing or whatever that old dick could handle.  Women are seriously crazy and manipulative.

I've decided it's all texting's fault.  Sexting, texting, vexxing and perplexing texting that only ever ends with MORE GODDAMNED QUESTIONS.

We as women need to know too much information.  Guys' texts to girls: "Hey- whats up" ; Girls' texts to guys:  "Hi! Hope you're having a good day.  What's up after work? Do you have plans? I think you said you're watching the sports game but I'm just a dumb girl who really is trying to ask you if you have time to hang out with me but I'm trying to be funny and cute and now I've totally gotten off track, and do I seem like I'm also busy too, but not busy enough that if you're free and not watching the sports match, I could 'move a few things around' and also be free?  Cool, I'm breezy, let me know."  You're not breezy. NO ONE IS BREEZY. Besides like, all dudes and maybe Kate from Lost.  She burned a house down though - so - ya - just all dudes I guess.

Just be clear, ladies. Dudes are simple. If you ask too many questions in one text they will get overwhelmed, and explode into little pieces of beef jerky made out of testosterone and recycled baseball bats, and just maybe never answer because all those words are just unbearable and-- are not sex.  Just be clear: ask one question, the one you want the answer to - and DON'T freak out if they don't answer, or if they don't answer right away even.

It's funny when you text someone you are sleeping with (or are trying to), compared to other people, you know?  If you text your high school friend from the track team a joke, they may not answer, and who cares?  You're just going to go about your day, Tweeting from the john, contemplating some yoga or maybe a gyro, but probably carefree and you forgot you even texted them at all, like- two minutes later.

However, when texting the person you're sleeping with, or trying to sleep with- the following growth-over-time psychosis occurs across all women that goes something like:

- Okay it's been a few minutes.  I sat with the blinking cursor, editing, erasing, and anxiously preparing the poetry of, "How are you?" for hours and I finally sent it.  Phew. And even still, I really meant, "Want to meet up tonight?"  but I didn't dare be clear or ask for what I want. But I still made it known that I exist and maybe he will remember that now.  I'M HERE!  So you know, in case he forgot.

-Ten minutes later; rereading text history, evaluating past response-times and really just thinking: OH GOD- "HOW ARE YOU?" What am I, 87 yrs old? Oh God, that was such an uncool thing to say.  Maybe his grandma died and he's terrible!!  I mean, we're just not that kind of close where he can talk to me about it and OH GOD, now I've pushed him away forever.  Oh God. I wouldn't answer me either.

-An hour's passed.  Just being chill- casual phone glance. Hits start button. Oh - it's cool- he's probably at work. Or maybe taking a nap- it's not a biggie.  I mean, even if he doesn't answer, it's not like I asked him to be my husband. I mean, "How are you?" is pretty general. I mean, I'd ask my mom that, so it's chill. Hits start button.  He's probably calling his relatives. Poor grandma.

-You got busy at work, and a few hours have gone by where you were distracted and busy and you kind of almost forgot, even though secretly you put it on vibrate in your pocket just so that it doesn't seem like all you're doing is checking your phone all day, but now your hand is just on your pocket waiting for the Helen Keller version of text-notification which is totally more breezy than staring at it and welcoming people to ask about it, which ... I mean, he's not your boyfriend, so what would you even say? Probably-- "My friend's grandma passed and I'm just trying to be there for him in this tough time."  What a good friend.

-You're off work. Sweat is beading up.  OH GOD HE MUST BE DEAD.  Is his mom going to call me? The funeral is going to be so sad.  He was such a kind person and really a lot of fun, too. What is going to happen to his dogs?  I guess I can take one, I'll let his mom know when she calls me, it's the least I can do.   Will I have to speak at the funeral? I HAVE SO MUCH TO DO TO PREPARE.

And this goes on and on in a shamey shame-spiral until he'll probably just text you when he's free, and can actually hang out, because boys/men are logical and don't waste time explaining all their errands and other trivial crap that also isn't sex, and why they're busy, and they just skip it. All together.  And sometimes just don't answer when that is the case.  Just like you would if you weren't being such a pscyho and planning out all these would-be scenarios in your feminine brain.  Then, when they can actually hang or are available, you'll probably hear from them.  At this point, they are a zombie and so is their grandma, but only in your mind. Your mind- the same place where they lived out all those dreamy scenarios you expected after just asking "How are you?"  The thing is, if we could just replace these INSANE brain-activities with room for something real to actually happen, it wouldn't be so scary or so painful to just send a text.  It's just texting.  UNTIL SOMEONE'S DEAD. But seriously, all girls- just chill out.  It's going to be okay.  What lies on the other side of banter is in your hands if you don't scare everyone away.  Let's turn this car around ladies.  Let's learn to be breezy.  <<Hits start button.>>  WHAT! Sorry.  I thought you looked away.

Filed under: Men, Sex, Texting, Women

Tags: Men


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