It's 2 AM, you must REALLY respect me, I'll be RIGHT over!
The Booty Call. Even better, the DRUNK booty call. An age-old tradition, now manifesting itself in a new medium:
The Booty Text Message.
An incident this weekend gave me pause about this phenomenon(menamena). I've been out of the game for a while, so I had to go back into my memory banks to find the file that tells me why I used to answer these calls. The answer is never pretty. Lonliness, a need to be liked, intoxication...
But here's the wisodm I have to impart. Ladies, don't answer this call. Just don't. The man on the other end of that line is calling you at two in the morning. Drunk. No matter how much you'd like to believe he's been at home drinking by himself, and it's taken him this long to muster up the nerve to call you, the reality is that he's home, alone, drunk, after an evening of trolling with his buddies. He couldn't manage to close the deal with some other unsuspecting girl, so he's running through the women he knows might come running to salvage the night for him. Read: Have sex with him. Read: Ew.
Don't be that girl.
To the individual seeking contact with me at 2:30 on Sunday Morning:
Eat Me.
The Booty Text Message.
An incident this weekend gave me pause about this phenomenon(menamena). I've been out of the game for a while, so I had to go back into my memory banks to find the file that tells me why I used to answer these calls. The answer is never pretty. Lonliness, a need to be liked, intoxication...
But here's the wisodm I have to impart. Ladies, don't answer this call. Just don't. The man on the other end of that line is calling you at two in the morning. Drunk. No matter how much you'd like to believe he's been at home drinking by himself, and it's taken him this long to muster up the nerve to call you, the reality is that he's home, alone, drunk, after an evening of trolling with his buddies. He couldn't manage to close the deal with some other unsuspecting girl, so he's running through the women he knows might come running to salvage the night for him. Read: Have sex with him. Read: Ew.
Don't be that girl.
To the individual seeking contact with me at 2:30 on Sunday Morning:
Eat Me.
posted by LC Greenwood at 5:37 PM
1 Comments:
You've got it all wrong.
You don't have to leave, I'd come over there.
Hypothetically.
Did you get a booty text?
Where does the anger come from?
I wish I got booty texts.
More often.
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