So occassionally I drink a little too much and send out lots of embarrassing and overly affectionate text messages to random people, mostly those who are recent recipients of other text messages. This is because it's easy to just go in my recent text messages and start replying to recent texts with things like "Luv ya!" and all sorts of other things that don't make sense or are relatively inappropriate. Luckily for me, normally these people are actually with me, more than likely in the same room, and usually sending similar text messages to the same group of people. We are, of course, the utmost in humor and quick wit.
Just such an evening passed recently, except we were experimenting with "group text" (this sounds dirty but it's not... we were trying to figure out why some of our phones 'reply all' to group text messages automatically and some of them do not). This resulted in all sorts of ridiculous messages that would make absolutely no sense if read out of context by an outsider.
During this enthusiastic episode of text messaging, I drank around four margaritas and a glass or bottle of wine, and was sending all sorts of messages to people on my "recently texted" list of people. And I wasn't paying much attention. And this happens all the time and then the next day I look at my sent messages and hang my head in shame, glad that my friends know and accept me for the overly sentimental drunkard that I can be.
And it was on a morning just like this when I saw a number I didn't recognize in my recently sent text list. Far too close to the list of messages that I had sent the night before in my tipsy state. Close enough that it could have been a victim of my group texting. Anonymous enough that I knew it wasn't someone who knows that when I drink, even just a glass, everyone is suddenly my best friend and no topic of conversation is off limits. Even the really weird and offensive topics of conversation, like why someone would choose such to grow and maintain such an ugly beard. Which, yes, I have actually started that conversation and it did not go as smoothly as I thought it would.
Holding my breath, I opened the message log. And sucked in a very long and very deep breath of fear. Because the number was my boss's boss's boss. The string of messages began innocently enough; it was an exchange between my husband and the Boss about work. I scrolled down. Some questions about a building that had come up earlier in the day. An answer from my husband. A thank you from the boss. And that's where it ended. Thank God. But it was pure luck that I didn't click on that number and send some random text thinking it was someone else.
The lesson I took from this was to never let my husband use my phone ever again. The modified lesson I took was to make sure I delete any unknown numbers from my phone immediately so that I don't end up sending them overzealous texts in the middle of the night, under the misguided belief that everyone is as happy to have me as an acquaintance as I am to have them. And also that they want to know it as much as I want to tell them about it. At midnight. Spelled wrong. With exclamation points.
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