I don’t care what people say, getting numbers IS hard.
You bought drinks, so do I just give you my number, like were trading? Your Pokemon for my Pokemon? I don’t even think that’s how you play, but it sounds like some hilarious nerd-sex-banter.
I sometimes think it is good that I have no understanding of the business of obtaining or distributing numbers.
My recent big Number Blunder (yup love the name, keepin it) happened when I was visiting my ex-roommates in the city a couple of weeks ago. I ran into my Silverfox, a.k.a. guy I was obsessed with for a year. We talked for an hour and then he left. Two hours later, four beers deep, I called him.
But I had actually deleted his number out of my phone! Hmmm problem. Well deceptive/drunk me called up a friend who had it, and then proceeded to lie to her about why I needed it. Five minutes later I had called him twice and almost left a voice mail.
Thirty minutes later I text him “I’m so sorry”
(for what? for calling you at ten fucking thirty at night?)
Not even another thirty minutes later I send “maybe we shouldn’t see each other next time I’m in town”
(not that he mentioned wanting to see me really, so where did I get this? Christ.)
That night ended with more beer, a sympathetic 19 year old male ex-coworker driving me home, myself hysterically sobbing outside my old apartment complex while telling my friend over the phone that I lied to her and was a terrible person, and then having some sort of issue about shoes. I couldn’t find them? Didn’t know what they were? Shrugs.
The next day I received some very nice texts back from Silverfox, a teeny bit concerned and mostly friendly. After brushing off my drunken texts we chatted back and forth until I realized…he took my desperate calls and bizarre text messages as communicating that I wanted to be friends!He thinks we are friends now!
In that moment I knew I had to do some damage. Get me some boys or something to distract myself from this chatty and light convo with Silverfox about our thoughts on the new superman movie, and whether or not its a stereotype when you BBQ on the fourth of July.
A couple nights later his number was once again deleted and I was ready to hit the bars. I let this absolutely beautiful boy buy me drinks (not beer) and be ridiculous attentive to me all night long. Like for reals though, beautiful. He was.
We left the bar and went our separate ways and yes I forgot to get his phone number and yes I’m a moron.
Less then a week later I’m at a party in the city and I literally spot a guy within an hour of being there and tell my friend “him, Yes.” I talk to him periodically throughout the party. I dance a little bit (a lot a bit) later on in the evening, when finally my “Yes” man and I seize our moment and spend the next hour together on the couch.
Best kisser of my whole life. My god.
Now of course I left the party rather abruptly and AGAIN did not get a phone number. Am I supposed to be giving MINE out? like its a flyer for a birthday party? Here you go hope you can make it!? Just kill me.
Last night I went out dancing and was having a good ol’ time with a security-guard-looking-ish guy, when I went to get a drink, I came back and he was all up on a blonde. Got over that in less then a second because um hello HOT DRUMMER on stage!
I actually grew some balls (shout out to all those gin and tonics) and hugged this hot drummer! We talked for like five seconds because I had nothing prepared to say except for “you were really great!” which I repeated three times just in case him being a drummer, he didn’t hear me the first two times.
I’m sure you didn’t see this coming at all, but no I did not get his number.
I think it’s obvious at this point I don’t know how to get them/give out mine. And judging from the level of ridiculousness that ensued from me having Silverfoxs number, maybe this is a blessing in disguise?
Maybe I would feel embarrassed every morning, groggily waking up to see that I had called and texted guys who wanted no further communication with me the second we left the respective bar.
Maybe my whole demeanor screams crazy and the guys at the bar just got out of relationships with their clingy ex-girlfriends and the changing their number process was just such a hassle and they dread calling up their service provider and having to say “yeah, can you change my number again?” Maybe they can hear the roll of the eyes of that customer service agent on the other line thinking “wow just pick a sane one already, damn.”
Maybe it’s all my fault because I’m supposed to be offering up my number. Well I can safely say I’m going to have to be ALL KINDS of drunk for that to happen, so lets hope he buys me shots or is a whore with handing his business cards.