Let’s review, shall we? The last ten text messages I sent, with translations:
1) It is indeed! BBQ, sangria and karaoke make Molly a happy girl. How are you this morning?
Holy crap, I’m hungover and at work. I went to a cookout last night that turned into late-night karaoke. Luckily, there were no strippers involved. Just Amber, which is almost the same.
2) Nevermind. I was teasing you.
I was attempting to make a point without actually telling you what I was talking about, which didn’t work. This means (a) subtlety and text messages do not mix, (b) I have clearly been misinformed and (c) I should not send text messages after singing Lady Marmalade with Katy and Amber. I probably shouldn’t do anything after that, except take off my wig and go to bed.
3) Me too.
I share the sentiment. (I cannot share the original message, for it was very, very dirty.)
4) Hi.
Hello, it’s 1:21 am and I just thought you might be awake. I wouldn’t call you to hang out at a normal hour, but Amber and I were just talking about you and your brother and the, uh, family trust … and, uh, I just wanted to say hi.
5) A lot changes in a week, huh?
Remember that conversation we had that one time at that place that I don’t really remember? Yeah. Well, I’m going to vaguely reference that, drawing conclusions based on new evidence and third-party information. This is going to work out really well and I’m sure you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about because, if nothing else, sangria makes me totally lucid.
6) Good lord, stop being stupid.
You, sir, are a jackass. I cannot believe you’ve managed to go thirty-five years on the planet with the piss-poor decision-making skills you’re currently displaying. I can only hope that you get your shit together before you turn into the creepy old guy at the keg party. I could try to comprehend the ridiculousness that is your thought process, but I just don’t think I could ever be that dumb, even hypothetically speaking. There’s a lot that I’d do for science, but even I can’t retard myself enough to be on your level.
Alternative translation: Call me!
7) You, too.
Again, I am returning the thought. I believe this particular message was a response to “Have a good night,” although it may have been a response to, “I hope your life is entirely devoid of pie. You are terrible.” Though I think my response to that would have been much more fiery and wrathful. Curse me with a pie-less existence will you? A plague on both your ovens!
I miss you, too.
I wish you were here. Or I was there. Or we were somewhere. The “we” being the important part.
9) Okay.
Okay.
10) Upstairs
As you are meeting us at the bar, instead of being here already, we are upstairs. So, when you get your high ass here, don’t sit downstairs for ten minutes and conclude that we’ve gone home. Come upstairs and find us. Or, disregard this message entirely, as you’re probably passed out on the couch and/or the floor at this point.
Conclusion: I love text messaging, I do. It’s fun and you can flirt and say silly things and it’s a really good way to contact people after ten pm, when you shouldn’t call anyone who isn’t already with you. But, good lord, it is fertile ground for misunderstandings, miscommunication and just plain ridiculousness that wouldn’t happen if you couldn’t just type in a little phrase and send it on its merry electronic way.
(Click on the link for study results.)