Poor @Hercules_STS. I told him I got a new iPhone, in addition to my old phone. The area code for this new device is from my hometown, where Hercules and I went to high school together. Yet (thankfully) he never pieced that all together when texts from his 11th grade prom date - let’s call her Beth - started popping up on his phone.
(The blurs are just hiding identifying details, like real names and cities.)
I figured appealing to his sense of decency would elicit a response. It did.
Cut to the next morning, when Beth decided to ratchet her issues up a notch.
Hercules was still ignoring Beth, decency be damned. But he did call me, asking if I remembered Beth, as she and I had hooked up a few times. He recounted what she’d been sending him, with a bewildered tone, and I chided him for not being a better member of the human race by helping out what clearly sounded like a woman in major distress. He concluded by saying she hadn’t texted for a while, so he assumed she got home okay. Wrong, pal.
I waited a bit after we hung up before resuming Beth’s insane pleas.
We had gone snooping on her Facebook page during his call to me about Beth’s text to discover Beth had added some weight since high school. By now, Hercules was sending me a live play-by-play of Beth’s texts to my Blackberry while I snorted with laughter then sent him more messages from the iPhone.
As we closed in on 24 hours of Beth’s lunacy, it only seemed natural to keep ramping it up until Hercules finally figured out what was going on. (The blurs are all his name.)
I kept calling him from Beth’s “number” hoping he’d pick up and I could laugh hysterically. He sent the calls straight to voicemail. So I dropped a reference he’d immediately peg to me: “Call Me, Maybe.”