These Are The Signs Of A Desperate Man: A Texting Experiment

Phase 1: Concern

• Why haven’t you texted me back? Are you okay?
• Are you hurt? Have you been kidnapped?
• I really hope you haven’t because I am so not ready to be Liam Neeson. I just can’t imagine taking down some sex traffickers, especially not while wearing a long leather coat.
• I just feel like that coat would get in the way, plus I am sure it gets awfully hot. I am sweating just thinking about it.
• I am not skilled at hand to hand combat. I should watch The Bourne movies a few more times to get the hang of it.
• I just hope that ransom isn’t their goal because I never answer unknown calls.

Phase 2: Jealousy

• Just please text me back. What is wrong?
• Did you lose your phone? Did you drop it in the toilet at a club?
• Are you at a club? Who are you with? I really hope it isn’t with that Trevor guy. Why are you hanging out with a guy who has the name of a 14-year old boy who plays baseball?
• Ugh, I bet you don’t even hear my texts over the loud music. Is it difficult hearing your phone over numerous Pitbull tracks being played on a loop?
• You must be taking selfies. You must see I am texting. Are you taking pictures with Trevor?
• Is he holding a drink in one hand and giving the peace sign with the other?
• Should I send the kidnappers his way?

Phase 3: Distraction

• Maybe you aren’t getting good signal wherever you are. Is that it? I knew you should have changed providers. We wouldn’t be having this issue.
• Are you in the woods, desperately searching for a signal so you can speak to me? Are you alone? This is how ’80s slasher films begin.
• Who are you with? Is it Trevor?
• You don’t even like nature. You once said trees would be more important if they had wi-fi in them. -Since when do you like camping? Are you reliving your girl scout days?
• Wait, girl scouts never spend time camping, they spend time in front of supermarkets begging me to buy their overpriced cookies. I always do, because it would be inhumane not to.

Phase 4: Confusion

• Are you trying to tell me something? How am I supposed to know you are telling me something without actually telling me something?
• Are you trying to give me a hint? You know I am bad at this. This isn’t a game of charades. You can actually tell me.
• Are you afraid to open the lines of communication with me? Aren’t they already open? Wait, are you trying to close them? When will they be back open? Is there a schedule I can look at?
• Are they open on Sundays or is that your day of rest? Today isn’t Sunday, is it?
• Do you need space? Speaking of space, why haven’t you seen Alien?
• Are you more into romantic comedies? Are you discussing this situation with your more sassy, but single friend? Is she hoping I have a funny, but single friend that she hopes will fall in love with her at the end of all this?

Phase 5: Anger

• I get it. I’m done. You were boring anyway.
• I deserve better than this, better than you. Good luck finding someone else better than me.
• In fact, good luck to that someone who has to deal with you. Maybe he will have better luck using pigeon carrier instead to communicate with you. Would that work better for you?
• Have fun on those dating websites.
• I hope you meet a vegan.
• I hope you meet someone who forces a gluten free diet on you.
• I hope you meet someone who doesn’t own a television and doesn’t know what Netflix is.

Phase 6: Apologetic

• Okay, I was out of line with the whole “I hope you meet a vegan” line. That was a low blow and I realize that.
• I am sure everything is okay and you just got sidetracked.
• I know that you will text me back and have a wonderful tale with a beginning, middle, and end; a story where you learn a valuable lesson and we won’t have this issue again.
• I can’t wait to hear this tale. We will have a good laugh over it. Oh, how we will laugh.

Phase 7: Denial

• Anyways, I hope all is well, and I can’t wait to go on that second date soon.