I'll take you whatever way I can get you Bree. LOL I'm drunk.
I didn't recognize the number on the text. I only get them on my work Blackberry, since they come along with what I need to use our company software on it, a plan including unlimited texting. I refuse to pay for texting on my regular cell, and long since had it disabled. As a result, I'm not all that familiar with all the customs and abbreviations the way the younger generations are. In spite of that, I've long since learned LOL, TY, YW, and other common usages. This morning when I turned on my Blackberry in my driveway, this text buzzed me.
Oh gee, happy day, my first drunk text. These, too, I had heard about. Needing to get to work, before pulling out I decided to be helpful, hopefully to both of us.
I'm not Bree. Sober up and try again.
I used the option of deleting the conversation, thinking - oh how naively - that it was over.
When I stopped at a gas station for a pit stop, I pulled the Blackberry out of my pocket and checked it. Three texts were waiting.
You're wrong and I'm right, Bree.
(Really unrepeatable suggestion about sharing our time.)
Go to bed now Bree.
Just how drunk was this clown anyway? I presumed he checked the number to see if he misdialed or transposed numbers, and discovered he hadn't. But this makes him think he knows better than I do just who I am? And what had he -or they - been doing all night to make him think that Bree would be just now getting home and heading for bed? It was several hours after bar closing time. I decided I wasn't really interested in an answer.
But I did let my imagination run with possible ways to try to set this guy straight. The first option was always to just ignore him, and with that in mind, again I deleted the conversation. I could still reply if I decided to do so, as the Blackberry keeps the number even after deleting the texts.
I could ask him if he was so drunk that he didn't write down Bree's number right. Or was Bree so drunk she didn't give it right? Heck, I've done that wide awake and sober. Or maybe - my favorite scenario - I could just text him with a reminder that he'd gotten the number wrong, and maybe Bree had done it on purpose because she wanted it to look like she wanted further contact later while getting out of having further contact at that time.
In other words, maybe Bree just wasn't that into you, you drunken lout. Maybe you're just not as charming a drunk as you think you are, eh?
And Bree, whoever you are, if you used my number just to get away peacefully, I forgive you. Completely.
Or come over to the ranch and have some cheese
Is that what the kids are calling it these days? I'm really out of touch! But it's clear he still thinks he's charming Miss Bree, so I decide I really need to try again to set him straight. The snark is fun to think about. I debate telling him not only am I not Bree, but none of my kids are Bree, nor is my granddaughter. Perhaps the shock of knowing he's being suggestive with a grandmother will be sobering, any puns intended. But in the end, I settle for short. And after some thought, polite.
I'm still not Bree. Go away please.
OK, I appreciate the apology, but what the heck is "295"? Anybody?