Craft Singles: A Holiday Survival Guide

3 am, laying sleepless in-between my flannel sheets printed with elephants, but bringing me no luck, I heard the first snow of the year blow in to rest gently on the fall-bright leaves and the wayward purple iris in my front flower bed. Thoughts of my newly dead relationship won't die, pestering like a month-long case of the hiccups, despite my internal pleading to please just take up less real estate in my brain. Sadness is so boring. But the first snow signifies the holidays. And the holidays mean togetherness. And there are now going to be a thousand ways that I'm reminded of my lack of togetherness, my singular, and absolute aloneness. Predictably, my sadness settles like snow and solidifies to ice. 

With rare exception, I am single during the holidays, and as much as I try to "get in the spirit," and smile genuinely through the festivities, my experience is always tinged with loneliness. I am happy enough to spend time with family and friends. There are fun parties and good meals and warm drinks. And yet, I am always acutely aware of my status; all around me, in stark contrast, are the partnered up, the marrieds, the young families, the long-timers. My chair at the table makes for a lopsided 13. Guest rooms are assigned first to couples because it's always easier to put a singleton on the couch. Shared whispers about so-and-so's girlfriend remain unsaid for lack of a confidant. There will be no cozying up together with a cup of cocoa, no little box with a lovely thought tucked inside and no stroke-of-midnight or mistletoe kiss. Again. 

And so, this year, I'm recommending a few tips and strategies, a survival guide of sorts, to help myself, and hopefully others, through this difficult time. 

Goldfish in a bag (Joce)

From Joce's journal, June 8, 2005

I think they could make a sitcom out of my recent love life experiences. Todays episode would be the one in which a guy who I gave my phone number to, after a flirty conversation in a coffee shop, calls me in the morning while I'm still lying in bed. We have a friendly chat for about 10 minutes and I get my hopes up that he might actually ask me out for this evening, being Saturday and all. And then I get a funny vibe. He seems to be steering the conversation in a direction that is a little too familiar. He asks me how I would describe my sense of style and then wants to know what I'm wearing...he wants to see how "comfortable" I can be with him. I keep chatting because I want to give him the benefit of the doubt, he can't possibly be doing what I think he is doing. It's just too creepy. Keep in mind I've only met this guy once...and this is the first real conversation we've ever had. I change the subject...how many siblings does he have? One sister, named Christy. Where is he originally from? Chicago. Where did he go to college? Notre Dame. He says likes the sound of my voice, and he thinks I'm cute. Then he asks me how many guys I've had sex with. Uh, none of your business. I stall and skirt the issue. You're kidding, right? I finally hang up when he asks me if I masturbate.

Thanks, asshole. Call me on a Saturday morning and expect me to have phone sex with you. Do I look like the kind of girl that has phone sex with a stranger? Do you come here often? Does this strategy really work for you, did you think it would really work for you with me?

Do you ever feel embarrased even when you technically didn't do anything wrong? I do. Today, for instance, when some pervert that I mistook for a nice, cute guy wanted me to prostitute myself to him over the phone.  He probably would have gotten a lot further, maybe even real sex, if he pursued me in a slightly more traditional way, say, I don't know, taking me out to dinner on a Saturday night!

Navigating Treacherous Waters (Kirk)

Hey Joce,

You're quite the writer ...are you really that quick and witty???

Either way it's rather sexy and appealing, and well I suppose your cute pics help as well.

I've always swooned for a lady arm wrestler and one who could navigate treacherous waters!

Anyways fire back I'd like to chat with you!

Kirk

Hi Kirk,

You look like quite the lady killer with your spiky hair, North Face jacket, and shiny teeth. Why on earth are you attempting to pick up chicks on Facebook? Though I guess if you're the kinda guy looking for lady arm wrestlers than maybe this IS the place.

Up early on a Sunday morning you must be headed out for a round of golf. Don't spill anything on your white pants! 

Joce

LOL that's hilarious. I'm not sure about a lady killer but I'm rather outgoing and flirtatious ...

You are correct...I was up to play golf just finished up And now it's time to head back to town.

I managed to keep my white pants clean :-)

Whatcha doing later !!

Kirk

School Lunch

Dear Ramon,

You’ve been coming into my work for over a year now, once or twice a month. You never look me in the eye when I talk to you but I can feel your stares, hot on the back of my neck, when I turn away. I know you have no interest in what I’m selling, and still you come back, again and again. Listen, Ramon, I know you want to ask me out, that you have a “big crush” on me; it’s pretty obvious (plus, your mom told me.) And, yet, you can never seem to get the guts up to ask me out, or get my phone number, or flirt without stammering. 

Dear Ramon, I’d like to give you a little tip, because I think you should know after all this time: don’t even bother.

I get it. You’re nervous. I’m intimidating: I look people in the eye, I’m conservatively dressed with some artsy flair, I’m friendly and I give really good customer service. But, the thing is, it’s my job. In my real life, when I’m not at work, I’m not generous with the friendly smiles – my clothes are eccentric, weird even – my demeanor has lots of hard edges and unpredictable holes.

I may not be the most beautiful girl, or the smartest, but I am full of meaty, juicy guts. I’ve been knocked on my ass more times than I can count, but because of these guts, I’m still standing, still fighting. Because of these guts, when I want something, or when I believe something, when the future needs wrangling, I pull out all the stops, I hitch up my bootstraps, I push through the barriers, I overcome my shyness and worry and I go for it.

And you know what I’m looking for in guys that I date? Guts, Ramon. I’m not looking for the handsomest, strongest, most charming, smartest, richest guy. I’m looking for a guy with guts. I know if you can’t even muster the guts to ask me out, after an ENTIRE YEAR, that you don’t have what it takes. If you can’t suck it up, reach out, look me in the eye, act like a man, offer yourself humbly but with confidence, than you are not the guy for me. I’m not interested. Fact.

Dear Ramon, just let it go and move on. Take it from me: I eat guys like you for lunch, with pickles and Baked Lay’s on the side.

XOXO, Joce

 

Also, slipping and falling (Kaleb)

J Are you working or do you just text people all day?

K Working ;)…lol

K Let me know if you need a pic of me in just shorts ;) …I have nothing to be embarrassed about ;)…lol

K Although I am very white…lol

J Yes, judging by the number of pictures of yourself that you’ve texted me, you seem to have no end of confidence in your appearance! I don’t need more pictures. I’m more interested in personality.

K I am still awesome trust me!!!!

K Lol I am awesome…lol very fun to be around, honest, a gentileman, trustworthy, and inteligent ;)

J I like how you spelled intelligent wrong LOL

K Lol I keep telling you my auto complete suxs…lol

K I think I need to reset my phone but then I might loose also my contacts…lol

J You mean lose?

(K texts picture taken in bathroom mirror)

K haha your favorite type of pic…do I look ok?...lol

Dear Kaleb,

When someone gives you their phone number on Monday and you make plans together for Friday AND they specifically say they “aren’t really into texting,” don’t text them incessantly, like 500 times, because they might really regret agreeing to go out with you. Also, you are 36 years old; do you really need to follow each text with lol? It’s tiresome. Also, I’m not laughing.

People can make their own judgment about your appearance and trust me, they will. Repeatedly telling someone that you’re a “good-looking guy,” doesn’t make you a good-looking guy. In my opinion, you’re pretty average looking.  Also, same goes for telling people you are “intelligent” and “awesome.”

Driving a mid-range sports car doesn’t automatically make you “sexy.” Also, quit talking about “picking me up in your sexy sports car,” as if it’s the highlight of my day. You dropping me back home after our date and knowing I never have to see you again was the highlight of my day.

The fact that you have high blood pressure and cannot eat "fatty meats" should probably be offered up on a “need to know basis” only. The fact that you’re running low on your anti-inflammatory medication is not of interest to me at this particular juncture.  This might be interesting to me if I was 75 and we were married; in fact, I am 35 and single.

I’m not sure I’d agree that you’re “adventurous and love to try new things,” you turned up your nose at just about everything on the menu and when your martini came you refused to drink it because it wasn’t “sweet.” Then, when the mojito you ordered came you proceeded to pull out every single mint leaf. Just drink your drink already. Because if you don’t, I just might.

Also, speak up. Mumbling is not attractive. If you’re date has to keep saying “sorry, what?” that means you should annunciate.

Also, when someone asks you questions, it’s polite to reciprocate. I know you’re entire life story and you don’t even know my last name or what I do for a living.

Also, it’s rude to tell someone, “I thought you were taller.”

Also, when someone practically breaks into a run when leaving your car, they probably don’t want to see or hear from you, ever again. There is no need to text, “we should hang out again!!! lol.”

All my best,

Joce

Chicken (Kevin)

"I like a lot of foods but my favorite is almost anything with chicken in it." 

Two Date Minimum (Joce)

I learned two things in 6^th grade science: 1) the scientific method and 2) how to light spectacular tabletop fires with alcohol burners. In this blog post probably only one of these is relevant: a) the scientific method. Now I’m sure Mr. Bratton would disagree (and most actual or even peripheral scientists, also, probably some other people who just like science but aren’t actual scientists) but dating is a science. Not my science, mind you, I’ve always been more of an arts and humanities type. Also, “math is hard for girls,” so luckily, other than figuring a tip, not much math is involved. Anyhoo, dating is a science: a set of standards and procedures that we follow to determine a logical result. And now, because science is also kind of magic, let me wave my wand and walk you through the “Scientific Dating Method.” 

The question

Aackk! Will I be single forever?! Is there anybody out there that is a good fit for me and vice versa?!

Do background research: gather information and resources

My grandma used to say, “there is someone for everyone,” and judging by the motley crew of all shapes, sizes and economic status publicly displaying affection at my local Saturday market and/or movie theater, I would say she was probably correct. Also, pretty much everyone on this  “Top Ten Worlds Worst Leaders ” list has been married at least once.

Construct hypothesis

It seems likely, considering I am a relatively intelligent and well adjusted person, that is not bad looking, that I probably won’t be single forever. And since my grandma sure knew what she was talking about when it came to cooking and the proper way to get most stains out of a tablecloth, she was probably pretty well informed about compatibility and the likelihood of one finding ones mate. Also, Robert Mugabe has had two wives and I think most people would agree that guy is a complete tool, so, clearly, there must be someone for everyone. 

Tedious, mind-numbing (Howie)

Hi,
I was enjoying a day off strolling around downtown today, minding my own business when upon wandering into the old Barrio I was struck by a particular building. I hesitated. "Wait", I thought. "This place seems familiar". Then it struck me. Very large painting with a wounded heart motif. Small but feisty little dog. Large, stylish automobile. Joce!

If the lack of dramatic artwork in my apartment and choice of a bland Toyota had led to me being completely lost from your memory, then let me remind you: we went out a handful of times last year. Trust me, that's as dreaded of a line to write as it is to read!

I believe you helped me through a rough time via phone on a tedious, mind-numbing Arkansasian business trip. There are no more such trips. I left that world to become a teacher, and now teach at a wonderful little nonprofit school here in Tucson.

As I continued my stroll, I was left wondering if you still do reside here in The Old Pueblo, in that quaint little adobe abode. Care to satisfy my curiosity?

Hope you're well!

Howie

For the record, Howie, it was TWO dates.

Insignificance (Orrin)

“You have a little bump on your lip and I can feel it when I kiss you, “ he says.

You never noticed before and you look in the mirror and he points out a bump the size of a head of a pin. You feel it with your tongue.

“Thanks for pointing out my insignificant little flaws,” you say.

“Insignificant to you,” he retorts.

One thousand forty four bad dates, who's counting? (Alan)

The problem when you have a blog about bad dates is that everyone you haven’t dated thinks they can either set you up with your dream guy or that they are your dream guy and all it’s gonna take is one cup of coffee at a quaint café and love will blossom. For the record, even though you love a good rom-com, you know that real life isn’t anything like movies starring Amy Adams and Hugh Grant, nobody makes grand gestures, and none of us are going to get involved in elaborate pratfalls that lead to missed trains and airport encounters and misunderstandings of misinterpretations of compromising situations with other people that escort us, eventually, after a lot of cute outfits and romantic meals, and maybe a few tears, down the aisle with George Clooney. Instead, you will go out to said quaint café to meet your set-up and later you will call your sister and leave her a voicemail that sounds like this:

“OHMYGOD. You are NOT going to believe the date I just went on. This was IT, I thought it couldn’t get worse, and I was so, so wrong. First of all, this guy shows up and I kid you not, he is shorter than me. I’m f’ing 5 ft. 2, I am looking down on this guy. I don’t know if he was officially a midget or dwarf or whatever we’re supposed to call little people now, but he was little, like seriously, small. Not only that, but he’s like 24 years old. Maybe 23, I don’t remember. Significantly younger. And not in like a hot, younger guy and I’m a cougar kinda way, in like a, I just got out of college and I just got my own place and it’s kinda shitty, kinda way. So, I’m like, fine, I’ll humor this guy and have a cup of coffee. I spend my days being pleasant to people that I don’t really like, and I ask them questions about their families and I smile and everybody is happy, right? So, I can have one cup of coffee with this nerd.”

“So, I start asking him questions. This is the kind of answer he gives me (in this nasaly, slight speech impediment voice): “ssso, I’m sstarting a book club with my friend, well, this girl I met on the internet and it’ss a book club with just us and it’ss like a fantasy, sscience fiction book club and the first book we’re reading is four hundred and eighty seven pages, which is pretty long.” Yeah. And then I ask him where he’s from: “Well, I’ve really only lived one other place, Grand Rapids, Misshigan, and that’s like one thousand nine hundred and thirty three miles and I drove it in a car but it took like, three dayss.” Do you like movies? “Mosstly, I like science fiction movies but movies are pretty expenssive so I don’t go to movies but I have Blockbuster online, which is like eleven ninety nine a month for total access by mail plus five in store exchanges so it’s a pretty good deal and I usually watch shows like Stargate Continuum.” Very cool. He was like Rain Man. I just went on a date with Rain Man! So, I sit there, for an hour, and then I’m like, I gotta go, I got to get out of here. So, I make up some lame thing and he’s like “well, I think we seemed to hit it off sso do you want to give me your phone number and we’ll go out for a beer ssometime?” And this just completely stuns me into silence, I’m like, “Uh, no. Well, I usually keep everything online, I don’t, I don’t give out my phone number, so, yeah, email?” And I turn around and try not to RUN.”

“If this is really what it’s come to, I’m like so, discouraged by dating, and I’ve tried and I put myself out there and you know, it’s just humiliating, really, for everyone involved. So, yeah, give me a call back. Hope your day is going better than mine.”

Date with a side of fries (Tyree)

Granted, it’s a weird set up to a date. He drops by your apartment with a mutual friend and your dog bites him on the ankle. It breaks the skin, barely, but when he comes down with flu like symptoms a week later, he goes to the doctor and mentions the bite. They are required to report it to animal control and animal control is required to follow up with you, and you’re required to file all this paperwork proving your dog is not diseased or rabid and then the dog goes on probation. No, he hasn’t bitten any one before, nor has he since, just in case you’re wondering. Anyway, your friends’ friend, Tyree, calls to apologize, he’s embarrassed to have caused you inconvenience, and he’d like to take you out to make it up to you. Sure. Why not?

You meet at the theater. It’s a local indy place and they only take cash. He doesn’t have any cash. You pay for the movie. You take a seat in the middle of the crowded theater. The lights go down, the previews start and you see him bend down to reach into his backpack. He pulls out a giant, foil wrapped burrito. He proceeds to unwrap the burrito and eat it. It smells strongly of onions and beans. Soon the whole theater smells like onions and beans. People are looking around to locate the smell. Who eats a burrito at the movies?

After the movie, and the burrito, he asks if you’d like to get a drink. Sure. Why not? You walk down to a pub near the theater. He orders a drink, you order a drink, and, since you didn’t have a burrito at the movies, and you’re kind of hungry, you order a side of fries. The drinks come. The fries come. Tyree moves the fries to the center of the table and shakes the ketchup onto the plate. He proceeds to eat the majority of the fries. You ask for the bill and when it comes, he pulls out his wallet and a single dollar bill. “For the fries,” he says, smiling. You pay the bill.

You leave the bar and he asks where you’re parked. He walks you to your car and when you arrive, he moves around to the passenger side door and puts his hand on the door handle. You look at him, confused. “Can you give me a ride,” he says? Sure. Why not?

Opportunities for the aggressive (Justin)

You’re with a gaggle of girlfriends and you’re dressed to the nines for a night on the town. You’ve had a couple of drinks so you’re feeling confident. The cold air in the parking garage makes you shiver, or is it the anticipation of the potential of the evening yet to come? You all clip clop into the elevator in your fashion shoes and one perfect red fingernail presses the up button.

Midway to your destination, the elevator, with the flip flop, up down motion only an elevator can make, stops and the door slides open. He makes a quick sweeping glance of all of you and his eyes stop on yours, “hi!” “Hello,” you say back.

“And where are you lovely ladies heading to this evening all dressed up?”

You assess the situation. He seems ordinary enough. 5’ 10”ish, brown hair, brown eyes, dimple in his left cheek. His outfit is classic Banana Republic or J. Crew: cotton fabrics, neutral tones, modern cut. He probably works at a bank or in insurance and takes his Labrador on a hike every weekend.

“To the roof,” you say, “you should come.”

Under normal circumstances you might shy away from the direct invitation, but the wine, the pinch of your shoes, the cold air/anticipation makes you giddy and slightly more aggressive. You smile the smile that accentuates the dimple in your left cheek. It’s a half smile, slightly suggestive.

He raises his eyebrow, “Maybe I will.”

One of your girlfriends pinches you on the lower back. She’s warning you, don’t be so cocky! You laugh it off. Life is filled with opportunities for the aggressive.

K.I.S.S.I.N.G. (Nate)

You know it’s coming. He’s going to kiss you!

You met for a drink and took a walk in the rain. Now you’re back at his apartment, sitting on the couch, sharing a glass of wine. You’ve slipped off your still damp shoes and tucked your bare feet up, settling in to the over-softness of his canvas colored Pottery Barn couch (he actually has a couch! And it’s not from a thrift store, scratchy and plaid or sticky, slippery Naugahyde). As he passes you the glass he remarks at the smallness of your hands, so you hold your palms up together and compare: he’s got a full inch on you, each finger, your thumb is the size of his pinky.

This is the first time you’ve actually touched each other and you know he’s noticing the cool softness of your skin and the thin blue veins lacing through the white pinkness of your hand.

He wants to show you the book he was telling you about. He unfolds his long legs to retrieve it from across the room and you admire the squareness of his shoulders on his lanky body and the gentle swoop of his blond hair, still damp from the rain. He sits closer now, his knee and your knee, your hip and his hip. He sits back and shares the book across your laps. His arm shifts effortlessly behind your neck. He turns the pages and as you comment you feel his eyes resting on your profile, your lips. You pretend you don’t notice that he’s looking at you. He makes a joke and you smile the crooked smile that you know accentuates the dimple in your cheek. Can he see the sparkle in your eye and your long dark upturned lashes? He runs his fingers down the length of your forearm so you tilt your face towards him and catch his gaze. He’s going to kiss you!

You lean your head against the squareness of his shoulders and lift your lips to his. The familiar brush and press. And then…his tongue, hard and quick, darts out of his mouth and strikes your top lip, hitting your teeth and just as fast, pulling back. Quickly again, like a lizard tongue, but a hard sharp lizard tongue, it moves in and out, poking you in the lips, the teeth. You adjust your head and try a different angle as he relentlessly pummels you with tongue blows. What is he doing? You pull away and look him in the eyes, is he kidding? But his eyes still read dreamy and lustful so you try again. You plant a firm, closed mouth kiss to the side of his mouth and he moves to find your lips with his. Soon enough, there is his tongue again, battering your face, wet and hard and persistent. You try for a third time. There is saliva everywhere and swimming in this saliva, his flailing tongue whipping around. You’re completely disarmed. This is terrible!

Where in the world did he learn this technique? Hasn’t anyone ever schooled this man? Hasn’t he watched the movies and compared what he does with what everyone else is doing? You turn your head and rest the top of it under his chin.

“We’re moving too fast, I’m not comfortable with this.” In reality, you probably would have made out with him for hours if the kissing were pleasant. You slip on your shoes and he brushes the hair off your neck as you sit forward. He understands, but he doesn’t.

He wants to see you again. He calls you the next day. You’re busy with school and work; you’d like to see him but not tonight, maybe the weekend? You avoid his calls, send emails in response, sorry I missed you. You can’t bring yourself to see him again. If he’s that bad of a kisser, what must he be like in bed? He’s clearly not in tune with the subtleties of making love, of understanding another’s body and cues. Maybe you should tell him? What would you say? It’s not your job, you decide, to tell him he is, without question, the worst kisser ever.

Great quips (Cooper)

"The dress you wore on our first date was a 'too much cleavage for a first date dress.'"

I never knew there could be such a thing...

"Wow, that's amazing. You've managed to keep them together, all these years."

Upon noticing my matching bra and panties

Have a good life (Adam)

Aug. 29 10:17 PM
Don't even know if you get my stupid msgs anymore but "Coraline" the animated flick makes me think of you constantly. Such a great movie. Watchin it right now.
Aug. 29 10:23 PM
Guess it doesn't matter. I'm deleting your number so I don't bother you. Pls do the same if you aren't interested in me in anyway. Have a good life.
Sept. 6 11:30 PM
Sup?

Rosary tattoo (Jorge)

Points for best pick-up line to use on a girl over 30:
"you musta had a fake I.D. to get in here."
Points for being honest:
"I mean, I'm almost done with my probation."
Points for having the guts to ask for my phone number:
"how 'bout my email address?"
Points for sending an email with no text, just this picture of yourself.

Hard boiled (Cooper)

And then one day, he’s sitting across from you at the coffee shop. He asks if you’d like to share a piece of cake and you say yes. You sit there and you chat and everything comes very easily and he tells you later that he wanted to kiss you, but he didn’t. Very quickly, like you do, you are completely bananas for this guy. He is smart and funny and looks like a matinee idol with his brooding eyes and his dark brows and his half grin that quickly becomes a big, toothy grin and a guffaw that makes you laugh, too. And you do all the date things together, you go to the movies and bowling and miniature golf. You make dinner together, you talk about books and drink too much wine and stay up too late. At work the next day you are exhausted but day dreamy. You hope he calls, and he does! And you make more plans. You spend a weekend together out of town. He holds your hand. You shop for antiques and play Parcheesi and drink too much wine and you talk about everything, not just books now, and stay up too late. You can’t remember when you were this happy; were you ever this happy? It’s really hard to say, but sometimes you doubt it.

And then you get back from your weekend trip and he kisses you on the forehead and says “one last time,” and you don’t really know what that means, until later in the week. You go bowling again and you share a pitcher of beer and over the linoleum table he looks at you with his broody eyes and you catch your breath and look away because it’s almost too much. And he says, “I think we should just be friends.”

And it’s been a really long time since you had a cigarette. Probably years. But all of a sudden, with Axl Rose screaming “take me down to the Paradise City” in the echo-ey plastic room with the plastic booths you really want a cigarette. But, in lieu of that you want to know why? What happened, what did you do? Because you could have sworn that he was as happy as you. But, of course he wasn’t. And so, after some prodding he tells you. And it’s too late and you’ve had too much to drink and you’re dying a thousand deaths.

“You know, Joce, I could date for another 5-10 years and never meet someone that is as compatible with me, that I get along with so well, that is so similar to myself. But, the truth is, and I just can’t get over this fact: that your commitment to fitness is lacking.”

You can’t remember when you were this humiliated; were you ever this humiliated? It’s hard to say, but sometimes you doubt it.

And you don’t see each other for awhile. And then he calls and invites you to go see an art exhibit on a Sunday afternoon. And you think, “I miss him and even if he doesn’t want to be my boyfriend I want to be around him.” So you go. And you wear a really cute green dress that makes your eyes even greener. And after the exhibit he suggests a pitcher of beer and you sit outside and he says, “take your sunglasses off.” And when you do, he looks at you with his broody eyes and smiles his half smile and says, “it’s really good to see you.” And you believe him. Three beers later you get up to use the restroom and as you stand up and start to walk away your hand brushes the back of your dress. And you realize that your entire backside is soaking wet: the misters, the hundred-degree heat, the plastic chair. And that lovely green is now a much darker shade of green. And you realize as you walk away that he sees you for what you really are: a big, fat, sweaty cow.

You get together a couple more times but it’s always awkward. Mostly because of you. You’re just self-loathing and embarrassed and wounded and he looks at you, straight through you and sees all your flaws.

You don’t hear from him for awhile and then one morning you wake up and check your email and see his name and your heart jumps and you click:

“Sorry I've been incommunicado. I've been lying low.

Do you remember a conversation we had about cooking eggs? You had all these great suggestions for better poached eggs and better hard-boiled eggs. What were they? I recall you mentioning a very specific egg timer...did you detail a specific brand or model? And you had a quick and easy way to poach eggs as well.

Hope things are peachy, Cooper”

I luv you (Adam)

(Note: I never responded to any of these text messages)

May 1 6:44 PM
What r u up to this fine evening?
May 2 1:15 AM
At Plush tonight. Wish you were here cuz this sucks.
May 2 1:47 AM
Hello?!! You suck. And not in a good way.
May 2 2:51 AM
Sorry. I’ll try to only contact you when I’m sober and its earlier in the day.
May 25 11:17 PM
Hey you. I haven’t heard a word out of you in weeks. What’s up?
May 29 9:09 PM
What’s up chica. You having fun tonight?
May 29 10:27 PM
Nothin??? What’s up baby cakes!!!
May 30, 11:56 PM
Its my birthday. I’m super old today. This will be the last time I bother you I promise. I hope you have a good life. Sorry for ever causing you pain baby.
May 30, 11:57 PM
I luv you and hope you find a good thing to hold on to. You deserve to be happy. And you will be some day soon. Heck you probably already are! See ya!
June 14, 1:06 AM
What r u up to?
Aug. 12, 12:39 AM
Ok. I'm married and have two kids. How can that be attractive in any way. My wife is not interested in me cuz I'm a good guy and found herself
Aug. 12, 12:40
someone probably more interesting. What should I do?
Aug. 12, 12:42
Sorry Joce. This is not your prob. I'm not in the right place.

Finally, I respond
Aug. 12, 7:43 PM
I don't think I can help you, sorry. I can't really relate and I've got enough of my own shit brewing right now.

Aug. 12, 8:13 PM
HUH?
Aug. 14, 10:08 PM
Did you intend that last message for me? I was confused but you didn't respond. If you don't ever want to talk to me again, I understand. Just need to know.

I don't respond.
Aug 21, 9:13 PM
You out tonight?

A blast, clearly (Pat)

hola Joce. my phone has been out of charge for two days now. I'm about to give up looking for my charger, and just go buy ANOTHER one.

sorry I havn't called you. we need to hang out again, that was a blast

will call you when I become not so cheap and go get a charger

Ambien (Elwin)

"i want to come visit. when can i come? what's your schedule like? i dont even know what you do now! what are we going to do? i don't likewaking up early inn the morninge,.

crap the ambien is kicking in hardcore. brainpowerr is draining!

lov ya! help your rnjou qshitmm,,.
you vould