I’m Going To Lose My Mind If Another One Of These Texts Shows Up In My Inbox

I’m Going To Lose My Mind If Another One Of These Texts Shows Up In My Inbox ©iStock/stock_colors

There are two types of guys: ones who never answer your texts in a timely manner (or at all) and ones who seem to think texts are the perfect medium with which to show the full extent of their jerk-ness. I’ve met plenty of both kinds, but it’s the latter that really drive me nuts by sending me the following texts — which, if you’re wondering, always go ignored:

  1. “Hey, you’re looking good. How about a pic?” The request for a pic, nude or otherwise, gets a serious “Screw that!” if it’s not from an actual boyfriend or the bestie after I tell her I got my falsies and my wings right on the same night for the first time in my life. There’s a good chance this text is coming from some jerk I haven’t seen in three years who just saw my fine ass on Instagram, and screw that. Everyone knows I take all those selfies for myself and all my ex’s exes. They’re not Craigslist ads for unsolicited pic requests.
  2. “What are you wearing?” Unless you’re my BFF and we’re getting ready to go out, you literally have no reason to ask me what I’m wearing. And spoiler alert: I’m not going to lie to you to try to be sexy when we all know if I’m at home, there’s a good chance I’m wearing XL sweats with a crotch-hammock full of Tostitos crumbs and an “I hate J.D. Salinger” shirt. I don’t have time to waste trying to think of something sexy to tell you — there are still chips in the bag. Nope!
  3. “Hey, I don’t think this is working.”A breakup text tells me that you pee sitting down, you like those jeans with the embroidered pockets, and you probably prefer juice without pulp. I’ll likely read this text and go right back to eating my burrito, which is better in bed than you ever were.
  4. Any “What r u doin?” text after 1 AM. I’m kind of a free spirit, but even I make my plans for the evening before 1 AM. Obviously, your night fell apart, you’re going through your phone in desperation, and I’m one of several lucky girls who you thought you might have a chance with. The only way I’ll answer this text is if my night fell apart and I’m as desperate as you are, and let’s be real: I’m never that desperate. I have Golden Girls, a dog, and a Bota Box in my house at all times. So if you haven’t reached out to try and make plans with me before 1 AM, get lost.
  5. “Come over. I need to get off.” Cool. Not my problem. You obviously have hands because you texted me, so put them to use and stop sharing your problems with me. In fact, lose my number, because if you can’t even put forth the effort to pretend you want to see me for any reason other than to get off, screw that. You’re on your own, Hand Solo.
  6. “I really like you, but I’m not looking for anything serious.” Then why are you getting so serious, bro? The simple fact that you’re telling me this, unsolicited, tells me that you’re putting my name in every single name space, every single time you play MASH. Either that or you’ve already planned exactly how you’re going to screw me over and make it sound like you “warned me.” No thanks.
  7. Any song lyric text. If you’re over the age of 15, you should not be sending me song lyrics. And if you’re not over the age of 15, please let me know ASAP because I legally can’t date you. It’s true: music is everything, but if you’re not John Mayer and you’re sending me John Mayer lyrics to tell me something, you seriously need to stop. Say what you need to say. (Ha, I had to.)
  8. “What’s your problem? Are you on your period?” First of all, you’re my problem. And secondly, you’ll never be close enough to my lady bits to determine whether or not I’m on my period again. You try dealing with the joys of dating someone like you while simultaneously swelling two sizes, hurting all over, and losing half of your life blood in a deluge of pain and sadness. I don’t need to be on my period to tell you to go screw yourself, although it does help.
  9. “U up?” This is the last attempt before you pass out. You know that. I know that. Not only do I not want to talk about whatever sad crap is on your mind this late at night, but I don’t want to spend my late night brain cells deciphering your lazy, drunk misspelled texts. God forbid I actually take interest in our conversation and your ass falls asleep in the middle of it, I’m left to ponder in solitude. No. No. No No. Talk to Siri. She’s always up and she’s just as confused as you are.
  10. And lastly, the penis pic. How the hell did this start? You’re taking a picture of a weird part of your body and just sending it to me like it’s a recipe for your favorite spaghetti sauce? If your penis is the only thing on you worthy of a picture, we shouldn’t be talking anyways. Plus, we turn off the lights for a reason. No one wants to see those little gremlins, especially not at a weird and veiny angle on our phones out of nowhere. Unsolicited penis pics are an immediate cause of dismissal. And I’m never going to solicit one, so that means no penis pics, ever.
Jessica Shepard is a writer, promiscuous reader, and a maker of strangely religious, slightly blasphemous dog art. She's also in a band. In the past, they would have called her a Renaissance woman. In the present, they call her ADHD. And there's a pill for that, but she doesn't take it.