Apparently my phone number used to belong to a girl named Anh. I know this because I receive random “booty texts” every few months, always on a weekend, and always late at night.
The texts are from a boy named Jared. I know this because I responded to his first text (“hi Anh”) with “sup, baby?” and then to his second with, “I don’t have your number in my phone. Who is this?”
Then, thanks to our favorite local networking sites, I found out that Anh and Jared are as follows:
They are both 17. Jared is Cadet Sergeant Major and is also known as “Bust a move.” I’m assuming this guy is a real player and Anh got fed up with him and changed her number. So my question from here is how does Anh II (me) proceed?
Do I stop responding to his texts now that I see what a complete loser he is (that is an Aztec couch in a dingy basement) and how cool I am? (sunglasses indoors: obviously I’m too hot to handle). Or do I give this loser false hope that just maybe a girl like me really would go out with a guy like him?
After analyzing this dilemma, I realized that maybe my number never belonged to Anh. Maybe I’m the fake number she gives out (this formula: invert two of the middle numbers) to creeps like Jared. And since many women use that same formula to give out fake numbers, maybe she is the one getting texts from the creeps I’ve met. If that is the case, I would like to publicly apologize, Anh: for I’ve met a lot of freaks. And so far, it sounds like you only know of one. Ah, to be young and unsullied again.