Textual Relations


Texting is arguably one of the greatest inventions of the 21st Century.

There’s something illmatic about leaving it all on the cyber floor in 120 characters or less. I hear nothing, nothing at all. I tap new message. Type the first thing I think of in shrt hnd. Insert Your name. Punctuate with a 🙂 … And hit send.

Minutes later, I have a text … from you.

Last night I found myself on the receiving end of a rather precarious textual communication. Not-so-Starving Artist (NsSA) and I communicate frequently via text. And while I’ve never been much of texter, preferring to actually talk than type; with him I don’t mind. Or rather, I’m not bothered as it usually makes for colorful days and even colorful nights. And NsSA rarely colors inside the lines.

I look forward to the randomness that ensues as we explore the idea of one another. He is everything a good text partner should be. Engaging. Comical. Thought Provoking .. Evocative. I love it. I do, indeed. Which brings me to last evening …

I’m a bit hazy on the details as to how we got there, but at some point one of my many random thoughts was lost in translation. A not so occupational hazard that comes along with engaging in unprotected text … we like our text hard and fast — to the point that is.

“Perplexed?” he replied.

I’d made reference to us being a couple of humans and alluded to becoming “super official.” Not that I was or am in any rush to be one or the other. Though, I would be lying if I said I didn’t have my own theories about what could be. I thought a phone call might be in order.
Big Mistake … Huge.

What I Should have said:
NsSA, I like you – a lot. And that scares me, because the last time I felt this way about someone the results were abysmal and even though I’ve moved on ….  Its been a long time since I wanted to go all in with someone.  I’m not making out with anyone else and even though we haven’t put a label on what we’re doing or not doing – I don’t want you make-out with anyone either. Oh, and the reason I ramble like this and talk in code all the time is because I’m hoping you won’t notice how terribly awkward I am around you. Though, I like to think I ramble with a purpose.

What I Actually said:
“Why are you perplexed??” Without hesitation I went all in. Right now you’re you and I’m me – right?You could go out right now and make out with someone, and I honestly wouldn’t have anything to say about it” I continued. “I could make out with someone right now, and you couldn’t say anything either – right? … Right? – we’re just a couple of humans. That’s All. BUT – if at some point you decide, you want to be more than Just NsSA. And I don’t want to be Just The Pretty One – then, we could be NsSA & The Pretty One … blah blah blah blah awkward babbling blahblah blah …. ”

As I continued to explain what I meant, I not only confused him. I confused myself. I confused the hell out of myself actually.

“THEN we’d be, super – official!”

WHAT?!? Exactly.

NsSA makes me feel like I’m the main character in a coming of age Judy Bloom novel. I must, I must, I must increase my bust.

There was somewhat of an awkward silence after I’d finished spewing The Gospel According to The Pretty One. I’ll definitely give him credit – he doesn’t scare easily. Either that or he has one hell of a Poker Face. I, on the other hand am completely transparent. We continued to speak and ended things on a rather positive note. Reviewing cleaning protocol. I am methhead tweeker freaked out by the smell of bleach in a closed in space. He on the other hand, prefers to live dangerously. Going all in, closed windows and no gloves.

We kept our communication to a minimum today. I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t love a do over of the night before. Maybe pull a “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure” and yank my tirade back inside my mouth like a lion holds it cub. I can’t imagine what he must have thought – though I’m sure he would say I’m “Over thinking.” I admire and perhaps am a bit envious of his disposition.

I read a quote earlier and it reminded me of NsSA, maybe I’ll share it with him one day … in the mean time, I’ll share it with you (two subscribers – one of which is probably my mother …) But here it goes,  ” … real man, the kind of man a woman wants to give her life to, is one who will respect her dignity, who will honor her like the valuable treasure she is. A real man will not attempt to rip her precious pearl from it’s protective shell, or persuade her with charm to give away her treasure prematurely, but he will wait patiently until she willingly gives him the prize of her heart. A real man will cherish and care for that prize forever.

Regardless of what the future holds … right now, NsSA is the author of the best text I’ve ever had. And for that, among other things — I am extremely grateful. #send.


About The.Pretty.One

"I will never be the woman with the perfect hair, who can wear white and not spill on it.” - Carry Bradshaw The Pretty One is the youngest daughter of a former 70s pageant queen and her first husband, a wealthy financier. A former debutante and southern belle, this Steel Magnolia is anything but. A visionary, she is the owner and creative mind behind a successful boutique communications and event firm. But what I really want to do is dance ... and blog.
This entry was posted in Love, Relationships, Sexy Time, Text Message, Unchartered Territory, WTF and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Textual Relations

  1. Jenny Stone says:

    It was certainly interesting for me to read this post. Thanx for it. I like such themes and everything connected to this matter. I definitely want to read more soon.

    Jenny Stone
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