Why Not Take A Chance, Everything’s A Game

First things first. I found an article on dating that I posted below. It ain’t mine, but it’s worth skimming. I don’t like posting more than once a day, but, I’m getting clogged up over here in drafts.

Went to the gym today. I could hear the voice of HT as I pedaled away on the stairmaster. It made me ill. I turned off on him really fast, and I’m officially stripping the “Hot” part of his title. Now he’s just the trainer. He sent me an email today that said, “How are you?” I wrote back and said, “Ridiculously busy. And you?” And he said, “On and off busy.” I fell into a coma during that exchange. I’m sure you all did too. Ok. Moving right along.

I hate when people call and say, “Hi, it’s me.” Then launch into their dribble. You know how if you get a missed call you can piece it together? But Velvet’s cell phone doesn’t always reveal who called. The caller laments, in voicemail, that they went “right to voicemail” right after they say, “Hi, it’s me.” People! Unless you are my family, I urge you to stop doing this. It is so blipping annoying for you to assume that I know who you are. Girlfriends aside, it’s even harder to discern from my bevy of men who call at any given time.

Tonight as I was wrestling with the dogs to cut their ridiculous Medusa-like nails, I got a text message. It said, “Guess who?” This message stream ensued:

Velvet: “No Clue.”
Unknown person: “Boo. I must be one of the many you have given your number to recently.”
(Dude, we’re on Craigslist. Duh!)
Velvet: (Trying to be coy,) “There ain’t no telling. Kidding. Actually I’m pretty careful with dispensing the digits. So why did you take the cowards way out and text instead of call?”
{I’m still laughing at the sheer absurdity of what I just wrote. Again, my number is in more places than BORF.}
Unknown person: “So, you had my number when the random call came in. I’m far from a coward.”
Velvet: “You should have called instead of sending this. It’s too hard to type…”
Unknown person: “Sorry, I will.”
Velvet: “Ha Ha.”
Unknown person: “You could always call me.”
Velvet: “I don’t do that…you asked for my number, you call.”

What the FUCK is wrong with these people?

I don’t know which one he is but I am irritated right now. Who told these men that text messages are an acceptable form of communication? Why has the text message replaced the actual live phone call? Are we so busy that we can’t get on the phone with someone? Stop trying to conduct relationships via text messaging. Come on dude, you’re KILLING me.

CL#1 has officially been renamed to CL#1Writer. Because, like, duh, he’s a writer. And not a writer like the NC-17 dribble you read on this blog. A real live writer about topics so far beyond my intelligence that I could never compete. I have to keep the CL# beginning to their nickname, so then I can keep track where they came from. Think of it like a marketing effort, “And how did you hear about dating Velvet?”

So, CL#1Writer and I have a date on Friday night. He emailed me. I accepted.

One of the other two CL’s (#2 or #3) has got to be the text tormenter. I don’t know which one it is, but that will become his new nickname, and the other one will have to be appropriately named as he reveals himself.

Midnight Drunken Update:
Ok, I finally had an actual phone conversation with the text tormenter. But what you are reading now is drunken blogging as I had promised to go to BestGuyFriend-M’s tree trimming party tonight and forgot about it until the very lastest minute. I wanted to bail but I’m glad I went because I got to see some fab people I never get to see! I had two glasses of wine, then a glass of champagne, then a glass of half champagne/half wine, then finally, ended with a glass of wine. Once more for those in the back: Velvet is wasted.

I snuck out in the hall to return a call from CL#3text-tormenter. That is his new name. He is the one in the same industry as me. I’m not impressed by our phone convo, as he said “You never told me you had a fake name.” And I said, “You never said your name was ‘this.’” He insists he did, but after consulting all our emails, nope, he never said. Anyway, he wants to try to get together this weekend. More tongue in my mouth, yum yum. I mean, uh, oops.

Sidenote – drunk as I am, you should SEE the tiny Velvet-sized-parking-space that I poured SpeedRacer into. I cannot believe it. Shut up, I only drove 4 blocks, but it’s under 20 degrees out there, and yes, one recent day I said that I would soon be complaining about how cold it is, and here is that day. And I was so not going to circle the block and park any further than close to the front door of the Velvet Condo Building. G’night.