The Case of the Mistaken Text
The end of a date generally presents three options:
1. Play by the rules and pony up for a cab back to your apartment or dorm.
2. Spend the night at your date’s place because the thought of public transportation after 2:00 a.m. is about as welcoming as your 9:00 a.m. art history lecture. Let them know you are only staying because “you cannot make it home” and therefore will only permit a limited amount of shenanigans.
3. Go for it and rationalize your decision by saying it’s not a one night stand if they paid for your drinks all night.
One Thursday night after a fun night out with the guy I was seeing, I hopped a cab from the Fat Black Pussy Cat in Manhattan to my old Hoboken address outside the city. Within about 10 minutes of the ride I heard the da-ding of my text which elicited a Pavlovian-like stomach flip. I opened my phone expecting a sweet message of the “had fun, get home safe” variety. You’ll understand my surprise when I saw,
“F that, she went back to Hoboken. Be home soon.”
If it is possible, I felt flattered, objectified and entertained all at the same time. I texted back, ”clearly that message was about me but not meant for me! HA! Think you meant your roommate?”
He responded, “whoops, I’m really sorry about that. Let’s hang this weekend.”
Interestingly, I did not hold his techno-pas against him. He turned what could have been a deal-breaker into one of the more honest conversations I had ever experienced via text. I thought that if in one night I could realize that a guy liked me enough to be disappointed that I left and still man enough to ask me out after he clearly made an ass out of himself, maybe I should have stayed with him that night after all.
Then again if I did, I would have never realized he really liked me (yes, I recognize the irony there)! So my advice to daters: A slip of the thumb can be as daunting as a slip of the tongue. Let it go, that is, unless the text includes your roommate’s name.













