Texting is not for the weak of heart

To say I don’t get much action is an understatement. I am a single mom, I live with my mom, I teach preschool. When you add it all together I might as well be a nun. It’s a path I have willingly chosen so I can’t bitch too much, but from time to time I get a bit antsy and yearn for something just a little more than what is. When a spontaneous opportunity arises to let loose just tad I obviously need to cling to it like a life preserver because who the hell knows when the next one will come floating along. A little over a month ago such a floaty came my why in the form of a sassy text message and I seized upon like nothing else. The whole thing transpired over the course of an evening shortly before the holidays and although it ended up being highly inappropriate it was one of the most enjoyable nights I have spent in a hand full of years. Following is a slightly cleaned up version of the exchange, peppered slightly with my current commentary and altered only to protect those involved:
Mysterious Texter: BAHAHAHAHAHAH all your coworkers are men!
(This where I should have replied something along the lines that this was likely the wrong number, but I was slightly restless with the impending holidays and needed a bit of a diversion.)
Me: Duh. What did you expect?
MT: Well when you said you were going to have sex with all of them i assumed they were women. The news hadn’t reached me you were gay
(Seeing where this was going I decided to chuck any hesitancy to the wind and have some fun, I figured this was a sassy foe and I deserved some fun.)
Me: It’s long been a secret, my homo tendencies. Please don’t tell. But I do love me some man bits.
MT: Oh me too. Don’t worry I won’t tell
Me: Last Christmas I gave you my heart. The very next day you gave it away.
(Here there was a pause of at least 20 minutes. I knew my reference to the long ago George Michael ballad this would determine whether or not my mysterious friend and I would have an ongoing sass fest. I certainly hoped so seeing as this was the most enlightening chat I had had in the near recent past.)
MT: What the fuck you talkin bout
ME: I just had to sing. Don’t you ever feel the pull of a song? George Michael? ABBA?
MT: ABBA? You ARE gay!
ME: Deep down everybody loves ABBA. Get comfy with yourself and you’ll see it’s true.
MT: You are a walking fucking cliche man get out of the box
ME: You ever feel the pull of the box?
MT: Depends what’s in the box….
ME: Pandora, baby!
(Again there was a pause here and I seriously began to doubt the stamina of my friend on the other end. After about a half hour I replied back:)
ME: Seriously, I think you might have the wrong person here. I’m a soccer mom. Maybe the wrong number, eh?
MT: Soccer mom? Is that some secret fantasy? You get more gay by the minute love
ME: Everybody fancies a soccer mom. We are hot that way. The mini van, the early enrollment requirements, The demands on our time. Not to mention our abilities to multi task like a high dollar whore.
MT: I’m not too sure you’d make that hot of a soccer mom..it would take hella plastic surgery a loving husband and a gated out community.
(This is when Loren came downstairs from his room and said, “Hey, Mom. Why are you texting with Natalie?” Here I had to stop as my stomach sank out of my body and hoped all was not as it suddenly seemed. “Um, Natalie as in the girl you went to school with since the age of six? Why would you ask that?” Loren looked at me, started laughing as said, “She said she sent me a text to a phone number she thought was mine and whoever was on the other end got all sassy on her ass, something about gay songs and all that.” Oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiit. The fellow I imagined on the other line, the one sitting in his hot pants and fish net tights giggling as he sent me sass on top of sass? Well, it turns out she is a high schooler who has been friends with my son since they first started losing their baby teeth. I showed Loren the exchange where upon he started laughing even more and telling me how foolish I was to text with a total stranger. How was I supposed to know one of his contemporaries would be such a potty mouthed tramp? SO I did what I had to do and replied:)
ME: UM, so this is Heather. Loren just told me this was Natalie. Don’t tell your mom about my potty mouth. Not all soccer moms need a man, but we do all appreciate plastic surgery.
MT aka Natalie: I won’t tell if you don’t tell. HAHAHA. I’m straight up embarrassed.
ME: No worries. It’s all good fun. I was secretly hoping to find a fun gay man as my bff. Take care!
Trampy Natalie: Well seeing as I was under the impression you were a man, i assumed plastic suregery would be necessary…
Once I got over my initial shock of finding Loren’s peer on the other end and realizing my opportunity for a new best friend had evaporated I could only wonder at the poise of this trampy teen. She is definitely a force to be reckoned with and I am only glad Cass is not yet that old.

Cassidy and her friend Taylor sledding over the weekend in the beautiful sunshine. Days like this help to almost forgive the presence of winter. Almost.