TXT 4 SEX by Gregory Purvis

So how desperate do you have to be to send out a “woman wanted” text message to the cell phones of strangers all across this deviant nation of ours? Pretty goddam desperate. Which carries the death penalty. 

Okay, so my friend Lucifer (Lee for short) and I are “talking” last night. Which is to say, we’re texting. This is because I communicate much freely and faster when I’m writing, and because texting is the only way I can stand to be around my cell phone for any length of time. (I despise cell phones because they enslave you, forcing you to ignore people in order to get a break from the constant demands on your attention. That’s just how I roll. Deal with it, talkers.) Lee is online and he’s using his instant messenger program to send me texts. I’m using my cell phone. Anyway, we’re talking smack about the world and bitching about our places in it (or whatever), and the subject matter slides (as it so often does) into depravity. We are, after all, a couple of old-school potty-mouths. The conversation had turned ugly because the subject matter was ugly. That’s often how these things work. I’ve just finished watching “The Stoning of Soraya M.” and I’m in a lather about religious fundamentalism. Lee hasn’t seen the movie yet, but he’s telling me about a paper he wrote for school on a similar subject, and then we start bashing the Westboro Baptist Church nazis. Lee’s good about being an equal-opportunity hater hater. I was revved up about Muslim fundamentalists, but he mixed it up and reminded me that we have plenty of home-grown fruit-cakes in these here parts as well. Which is true. Very, sad-to-say. Then I tell him about watching “Lake of Fire” (a documentary about abortion that fascinates me for some reason). One of the crazies they interview admits that he’d like to see the death penalty apply to people who say “goddam”. Talking about abortion and the death penalty led inexorably to sex, as you might imagine. I guess those topics are just naturally supersexy, right?

Actually, I think discussing movies led to me describing “Marie-Antoinette” (the 2006 Sofia Coppola film), and how the movie always makes me think of sodomy and wedding cake. Maybe sodomy ON wedding cakes. Lee suggests sodomy USING wedding cake. This is pretty much how our conversations always degenerate. So we haven’t done much more than trade a few sniggers when I get another text message–not from Lee, but from some stranger with a 281 area-code.

The text message reads: “Looking for single woman over 18. If this ain’t you then don’t answer.” How precious.

Now, I’m naturally a pretty paranoid person. And this kind of thing doesn’t help. After all, I tell Lee, he’s sending me text messages while he’s online, even though I’m texting him back from my cell phone, offline. I ask Lee if he thinks maybe this creepy guy is using some kind of advanced spybot or malware to read other people’s messaging containing certain keywords… like “sex”, for example. Maybe he’s a REAL freak, and what caught his attention was the combination of “sex”, “abortion”, “sodomy” and “wedding cake”..? Then he grabs the cell phone number these messages are going to, and voila! Creepy text message! Then Lee calmly reminds me that “sex” has got to be the most searched-engined word of all time–and a subject to which a vast majority of people online at this very instant are addicted and/or enslaved by. In other words: coincidence.

But we both agree that this freak has got to be the most sad, desperate person of all time. I tell Lee there’s just NO WAY this guy sent this message completely by random. That would make him TOO sad for words. So I text the guy back. (The possibility that this person could be a lesbian didn’t even cross my mind; no lesbian, I figure later on, could be this desperate. This is probably because lesbians in the mind’s eye of most men are all superhotties that need only our own special lovin’ to convert them back into bi-curious nymphos, but that’s really beside the point.)

I ask the guy if he just started with random cell phone numbers in a random area code and started sending out his “girl’s wanted” texts. He answers: Yep.

So this has GOT to be the most sad attempt to pick up a random sex partner in the history of sad attempts. Lee and I quickly agree that we’ve never ourselves sunk this low. Not that we haven’t ever been desperate, of course. We are, after all, men. But not THIS desperate. At best, this is a poor man’s match doctor.com. At worst, it’s…well, pretty much it IS “at worst”. But what can you really expect to get out of random text messaging? The only thing that can come out of this kind of communication is a dangerous liason with another man in a filthy public bathroom. Because you just kinda KNOW that no real woman is going to get a message from a complete stranger on her cell phone and think: “Maybe THIS is my soul mate calling, at long last.” At least, I hope not.

On the off-chance that you may believe this person to be your soul mate (at long last), please send me an email and I will provide you with his phone number.


1 Comment so far
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At least that guy sent a text rather than called.lol. And your friend’s name is seriously Lucifer?

Comment by checkerboardzebra

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