Why We Delete Your Number
Guy: Hey, what r u up to 2nite?
Me: Who is this?
Guy: Brennan Huff…
Me: Oh, sorry! I lost my phone!
The #1 lie girls tell are worded as followed: Oh sorry, I got a new phone / I forgot to save your number! If you ever read these words she is full of shit and KNOWS your number, in fact if she is really into you, she probably has it memorized. Males, what you may be thinking with your remaining brain cells, left over from binge drinking is: well if she’s into me why would she delete my number? Answer: because she is into you.
Crazy, right? Wrong. This makes perfect sense to the female psyche. Add this to your list of reasons girls are a little off their rockers. A girl’s biggest fear is showing how needy we really are / we don’t want to show you our crazy side aka normal. We rather wait until you’re semi trapped in a relationship with us before we reveal our true colors. We HATE texting you first. It is my personal belief that the dude initiating texting is the last remaining ounce of chivalry our generation possesses. How beyond sad is that? Sure as hell makes me want to buy 10 cats and name them after Jane Austen characters right now.
The only plus to this crazy game of add and delete is I am learning area codes! A lesson, like most high school math classes, that I will never put to use in real life. By real life I mean my ideal life as a B list Bravo star on The Real Housewives of any city where gingers are accepted, aka nowhere. But this is besides the point, the point being girls have ZERO SELF CONTROL.
We will delete your number for the following:
- We have initiated texting you every day.
- We are about to be getting mad trashed with our posse and want to prevent the “u shodl be herrrrrrrr iN rym besd” or, if you are like me and a more aggressive drunk texting fiend, “REPLY FASTER ASSHOLE”
- You haven’t texted me in like, 24 hours so you’ve obviously moved on, so ha I have moved on too. I win. omgpleasetextmeeeee
- You’re a dick.
- I never want to hook up with you again.
- I don’t want my friends to see your number in my phone.
- I kind of hate you.
Then when we get drunk enough (and by drunk enough I mean we want your body) we will do anything to retrieve your phone number. Because going home with someone you just met at the bar makes you a slut, but slaying a repeat offender doesn’t add a new number to your list. Our actions include, but are not limited to, the following:
- Is your number on your Facebook?
- Have I accidently called you before when trying to text you while I am driving making your number available in my recent calls?
- Did I save any of your semi-cute texts that I read before I go to sleep so I don’t feel like a spinster beached whale?
- I will casually go through my friends contacts when they are in the bathroom, or I will just steal it to check and call them a drunkass for not being able to find their phone when its hidden in my bra, drunkass.
- I will do anything short of texting his best friend to get his number or add it to my friends phone as someone else so I can look it up later or steal it as previously mentioned.
- Is his number backed up in my google contacts tab in my gmail?
- Did I just resave your number as a made up girls in hopes that sober Kellyann would fool drunk Kellyann into forgetting this action? ALWAYS make up a girls name, if you make it someone you know you might end up sexting your girlfriend for the night … just sayin.
- Attempting to telepathically communicate with you / pray that you text us first with the same intentions, masking them with a line about missing us. We know what you want, we want it too. Just please pretend to be asleep in the morning when I leave.
** By “I” I mean “we”. I think… please back me up on this. So fellas, when you text your slam piece and she claims to have gotten a new phone, she is sitting on a throne of lies. Unless she, like me, has horrible ginger luck resulting in her ACTUALLY losing her phone. By losing I mean putting it in her back jean pocket so it falls out when she’s peeing then being too impatient to let it dry in a bowl of rice, it dies so she just leaves it at the bar slurring I’ll just get it tomorrow, she shoots her phone instead of a beer pong ball, she drops it straight into her McDonalds hangover coffee, or it is stolen from her table at semi formal because she trusts everyone- especially those, I just ran away from the carnival looking, caterers.