texting

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Sometimes I’ll wake up on a Sunday to some weird text from SG and I’m glad our friendship has gotten to that place. But he needs a new line already. (It was never effective to begin with.)

Chat

Sir: I’m coming home now and I’ll marinade the meat. How hungry are you?
Me: Not that hungry.
Sir: Want to fuck?
Me: Haha sure let’s fuck.
Sir: While it sits in marinade for like 30 min.
Me: Lol I hope you mean the pork and not your dick.
Sir: Pork: what I want to eat and what I want to do.
Me: Oh God.

Standard

So, my ex has been texting me. The ex who helped me with the badger. The ex who was the first person to really, really tie me up.

And I know him well enough to know by the tone of his texts that he may be looking for uh, you know, something. They’re not sketchy or sexual, but they don’t need to be with him.

And my inner moron is somehow convinced that might work. Because my friend texted me the other day to say she ran into him and he looked “damn good”. And I know he’s single, blah blah.

The immature, needy, hedonistic part of me is thinking there’s nobody else in this one-pony town, he knows what I’m into and what I like, and guys I’m just plain horny, okay? Really. I’m just horny.

But, then the grown up, mature, logical me is thinking:

Seriously. Before I do something stupid.

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While I was out with some friends earlier, SG and I started texting. While I have decided to postpone any more physical stuff with him until certain things clear up, I’m not opposed to the occasional something in my texts.

He does this thing where he’s so condescendingly dominant. He’ll call me things like adorable in a mocking way when I try to playfully assert myself. It makes me blush and feel so positively turned on. He’ll just tease me and it’ll drive me right up the wall in the best way.

I was feeling kind of frisky so I kept egging him on. I have to learn, however, not to dish out more than I can take. When he threatens to follow through in that way he does, it tends to weaken my resolve.

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So.

I woke up in a collapsed blanket fort in my friend’s basement to my friend asking me where his jacket was.

Skinned right knee, still a little drunk, two texts in my phone.

The first:

“Hey, Ivy. Sorry I had to run, my ride left early. But it was amazing meeting you and good luck on your research.”

The second, from the friend asking for his jacket:

“Top five moments of the night. FIVE: That comment I made about that one girl. FOUR: You being able to have anybody you wanted in that room and your thing with Pink. THREE: We got. Really. Really. Wasted. TWO: Freckles, ‘nuff said. ONE: The new friendship that has been formed between two of my best friends in life.”

Tumblr, I have some explaining to do.

Flirttexting.

Chat

Guy in my frat: Sorry I couldn’t be your date to that thing.
Me: Date? I was inviting you and a bunch of other people as friends.
Him: You’re the one who used the word date.
Me: Only I didn’t.
Him: I was joking.
Me: Sure.
Him: To the joke or to a date?
Me: Smooth.
Him: Don’t hate the player, hate the game.
Me: Too bad you have no game.

I think I’ve found a new hobby. This sort of back-and-forth continued for a good chunk of the evening. He once told me after some liquid confidence that he liked to dominate women. I told him he couldn’t handle me. Apparently, he took this as a challenge.
I’ll just need to brainstorm some sort of nickname for him.