I Am Not a Booty Text Unless I Decide To Be

Apr 23, 2014 by

          “I don’t think you’d be with a Ted,” my best friend said to me last summer (when she was still my best friend).

          My mouth dropped in exaggerated fake offense.

          “Ted’s not your type,” she plainly stated. “He’s too sensitive for you.”

          “Why would you say that?” I asked in shock, pressing my hand to my heart in a dramatic play of disappointment.

          “Maria,” she laughed, “he’s not real.”

          “Exactly!” I exclaimed in total agreement. “So why can’t you just let me have him?” I demanded, making her laugh more.

          (God, I miss my best friend.)




          On Sunday morning, I woke up to a text from Niagara (“the guy from Niagara” is becoming too long and redundant to type). The time it was sent – 3 am – said more than the text itself. I was slightly irritated. A month ago, I decided I wasn’t going to like this guy anymore, and there he was bringing himself to my mind. (Do guys have some sort of internal alarm clock for this shit, notifying them when girls are losing interest, so they can send quick and effortless texts to prevent us from forgetting about them?) Although annoyed, I couldn’t ignore it. I don’t have it in me to ignore people’s texts. Doing so would be inconsiderate. If someone says something to me in person, I’m going to respond. The same rules apply to texted words. The delivery method that someone chooses to relay a message does not minimize that individual’s entitlement to a response. There is a person on the other side of each text. It is human decency to acknowledge that person. (I admit that I can take a while to reply to texts sometimes, but I do reply when I see them.)

          I decided to text him as I would one of my guy friends (not that my friends would ever contact me that late without a valid reason), meaning overuse of the word friend and no flirting. (Maybe I was trying to friend-zone him a little bit. Sue me. It’s kinder than fuck-zoning the guy again.) Without me having to address it, he quickly apologized for the late-night text. I appreciated this, and told him so. Our proceeding texts back and forth were friendly, but he randomly stopped responding, which I expected would happen. It’s just his demeanor.

          At first, I was whatevs about it, but it didn’t take me long to forget that this is typical of him and to start overanalyzing. I didn’t think anything of my last text to him at the time that I sent it. However, because it went unanswered, I began worrying about its content. I try to be conscious of how I’m making other people feel. I was concerned that I unintentionally offended him. Guilt consumed me right into Monday. At some point during my guilt trip, though, I questioned why I was letting myself feel so bad. I was drowning myself in guilt over the possible feelings of a guy who booty texted me. My guilt complex had officially reached a new level of ridiculousness. This was unacceptable. I realized that no matter where in the conversation the texting had stopped, I would have wondered if I had said something wrong. I was being insecure, which I am not. I moved from guilty to pissed – pissed at him for contacting me out of air again, and pissed at myself for so easily disposing of the laissez-faire attitude I had established toward him one month prior.

          Before I further clarify why I was annoyed, let me clarify why I was not. I was not annoyed because this guy and I had casually fucked around. Some people think it’s a douche move for a guy to fuck a girl and not follow up. That’s not fair. That’s taking sex out of context. It’s not a douche move if the girl is doing the same thing. The fact that this guy and I have had meaningless sex had nothing to do with why I was irritated. Furthermore, I was not annoyed because the feelings I developed for him post-sex were one-sided. I do not expect a guy to like me only because I like him. Feelings are irrational. Neither party can control them.

          I’m a reasonable girl. I consider the circumstances when I analyze people’s actions. When Niagara once called me just as late back in the fall, I didn’t care. We were just having sex. There were no feelings involved. We could reach out to each other after weeks of no communication just to flirt and schedule our next time, because we were both cool with that arrangement. However, he and I both know the circumstances have since changed. I know he knows because he apologized. Six months ago, that apology wouldn’t have been necessary. Therefore, I was annoyed because I told him in December that I was interested in a date, and he has now twice initiated contact with me in an effort to use it to his advantage: once in February and once this past weekend. Not. Cool.

          Although I was unimpressed, before I continue, I want to make it clear that I don’t think these random texts make him a bad guy. They make him human. I’m not going to bash his character as a whole because of a couple cases of insensitive text communication. You never know what is going on in someone else’s life unless they tell you. I have no idea what state he was in when he texted me on the weekend. He could have been drunk, lonely, nostalgic, bored, or merely DTF. He could have been a slew of other emotions I wouldn’t know to guess. He could have simply been in need of a distraction. Random texts happen because something going on in the sender’s life prompts them. I get it. I’ve sent them. I’ve sent them to him. I randomly texted him in March in attempt to divert my attention from missing my best friend. The difference is that I don’t think my insinuative text made him feel like crap, because sex is what he’s always wanted from me. I, on the contrary, began to want to date him, and he knows it but texted me in hope of sex anyway. It does not take much empathy to understand that that could make me feel like shit. While that text does not make him a douche in general, it was still a douche move. I was not okay with it.

          If I wanted his behaviour toward me to change, I knew I had to let him know that it was unacceptable to me. No matter what may be going on in Niagara’s life, I have the right to be treated with respect. I’ve got to give it to him; he is normally very respectful. Booty texting me with the awareness that I may still have feelings for him, though, was not.

          I’m sure every girl has been a booty text/call in some guy’s phone. (If you haven’t, live a little, girl!) You can’t control how a guy has categorized you or how he acts toward you, but you can control how you respond. On one hand, you have the option to show him that it’s okay. And by all means, if you’re cool with it, be cool with it. I’m not going to lie; when I saw Niagara’s missed booty call in October, it made me feel confident. That’s just the place I was in at the time. It was satisfying to know that some guy was awake, thinking about fucking me, while my mind was elsewhere. I actually got a little cocky about it. Six months and some feelings later, and receiving a booty text didn’t feel good at all. This brings me to the other hand: the option to show him that it’s not okay.

          I could not let Niagara think that he can continue to send me texts months apart without reason. Those texts don’t amount to anything other than anxiety on my end. I’m in the process of getting over this guy, and he’s making it difficult. It is extremely hard to give up hope on someone who keeps reappearing. I can’t stop him from occasionally texting me, but I had the choice to let him know that I don’t like it in hope that he acts accordingly. On Monday night, I texted him how I felt. (Text is the only way we ever communicate. While I don’t think texting was the best way to deliver my message, it was all I realistically had to work with.) My goals were to be clear, honest, and polite. I began by acknowledging his apology again and reemphasizing that I appreciated it before politely letting him know that he has to stop randomly texting me. I stated that I realized I liked him at some point after Halloween (the last time we had sex), and I told him that I can’t get occasional texts from him now that I’m getting over him, because they make me feel like shit. I let him know that I had fun with him before, but I’m not looking for sex anymore. I assured him that he can absolutely give me a shout if he ever wants to hang out as friends, and I ended the text by essentially wishing him happiness.

          Like I said before, I went to this guy’s hotel room almost one year ago with the understanding that he owed me nothing. I’m not his girl, which by default means that he’s not my guy. My best friend may have been right; truthfully, Ted is not my type. Still, I’m hoping for my Mosby, which translates to the guy who is as hopeful to know me as I am to know him. Niagara is not my Mosby, but he was certainly fun while he lasted.

Happiness Tip: Do not accept behaviour that is unacceptable to you.

Previous: About That Student Loan . . . Next: One Year of Happiness

Related Posts

Share This

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Pin It