Bad texting part II

Dear readers, as you know this was a grueling and stressful week at work, and so Friday night I had every intention of staying in with some Netflix, a glass of wine and Noodles.  Instead, I ended up going out with my friend J. to her favorite local bar (walking distance to her house), staying out till the bar closed and sleeping on J’s spare mattress.  Not exactly a relaxing Friday evening, but all in good fun. 

J.’s friend S. practically lives at the bar (no, really — he is there almost every night of the week) and sure enough, we spotted him the minute we walked in on Fri night.  When we hang out with S., we always seem to meet entertaining people.  He smokes, so we end up out on the balcony with him — I hate cigarette smoke, but smokers do tend to be quite a social bunch, so it can be fun. 

While out on the balcony, we ended up standing next to a guy who I had spotted earlier and commented to J. that he looked like Topher Grace.  (I had just been watching In Good Company on TV before I went to J.’s house, so Topher was on my mind.)  Topher Lookalike (I’ll call him “TL” to protect him) was wearing a T-shirt with a white blazer over it.  (Yes, wow.)  We started chatting and I discovered a couple of things.  1) He was just as big of a tool as his outfit suggested, as he started using some of the worst pick-up lines I have ever heard.  2)  He is a 2L at the law school I attended.  (Really, this should not have surprised me, as most of the single guys I went to law school with were giant tools.)

The evening went on and J., S. and I continued to hang out and chat.  At the end of the night, TL came up to me and asked for my number.  J. was horrified when I gave it to him, but I assured her that I had no intention of going out with him, but I am not one to turn down what has the potential to be excellent blog fodder.

And, just as I hoped, TL came through for me.  Yesterday J. and I went to the 3rd Street Promenade and were having a pleasant afternoon of shopping when I heard my phone beep, and found this winsome text:

“Did we meet last night?  Sorry, asshole text I know.”  -TL

So, as it turns out, there are much larger texting crimes than bad spelling, and this is certainly one of them.  It’s really pretty inexplicable.  If he has no memory of me, why is he contacting me?  And what makes me think that I would ever respond to such a text?  (I didn’t respond, though J. and I spent some time conjuring up some truly snarky responses.)

All the more reason why the mancation is an excellent idea . . .