TxtSpk Grl

As if you needed further convincing that I will be making coffee runs for Satan upon my death, I would like to relate the following story. I met TxtSpk Grl at a mutual friend's birthday party, and I'm convinced our introduction couldn't be explained as anything other than destiny, or at least manipulated by the blog gods.

My friends were making small talk with her, when they decided to involve me in the conversation, and essentially handed her off to me as if I was Walter Payton. I decided we all needed another round, so like a sport I ordered the next round. I asked her what kind of beer she was drinking, when she claimed she was more of a wine girl. I goaded, "it must be your Catholic guilt." She started cracking up, "Yeah, something like that. I am Jewish. My people killed Jesus." My friends immediately fashioned a noose around their heads and watched as the blood flushed from my face. TxtSpk Grl didn't care, she was getting drunk off of her second wine. I was completely uninterested in this girl, and it was about 11:30PM when I slapped hands with my friends and tried to part with hugs claiming, "Outtie." They begged me to stay, to continue the entertainment. They even offered to pay for a couple more rounds and share a cab halfway back to the UES. I was just thinking that they saved me about 40 minutes of travel time and about $20 in beer. Of course I stayed.

We move to another bar, and by this time our group has dwindled to four. My friends keep talking to TxtSpk Grl, asking her questions that they know will make me want to kill myself. To each response, they start cracking up at me rolling my eyes. I try to act sober for a brief moment and get engaged in the conversation, when it hits me. This girl has the voice of Marge Simpson, and even beyond that her stories are accented by TxtSpk. I ask a question and she replies, "Obv." [What? What the hell did you just say to me? I know you didn't just TxtSpk me.] Flabbergasted, I decide to test her again "So you live in the city?" She replies, "Yeah I live on UES in a studio. It's expensive, but whatevs." I look to my friends, and the judges rule it a ten...this broad is, indeed, speaking TxtSpk. I pounded the second beer and pretended like I had to get home because it was a school night.

My friends cajole me to get into a cab, and at the last second offer it to TxtSpk Grl as well. So the four of us are in the cab headed home. My two friends stop at Gramercy, and I'm left with TxtSpk in the back of the cab as she's giving me a tour of the FDR Drive pointing out apartments that I shouldn't live in because of the guys that she's slept with in each building. The cabbie stops at 79th and York and we both get out, because I could use a good walk to sober up.

We walk to the corner, and she starts in with that voice, that smoker's voice, half-drunk, and fully horny. "I like you. You're cute," she claims right before she engulfs me in her arms and decides that my lips would fit perfectly on hers at that moment. I slowly back away as she becomes more frisky, but she cons me into taking her number down claiming, "we should get a drink sometime." I'm sitting there typing the digits into my phone, pretending to input her numbers, when she calls my bluff. She makes me call her. Buzzkill. So she takes my phone and saves her number. What did I care? I was never going to see her again.

Two weeks pass and she's giving me phenomenal text, I'm talking perfect grammar & perfect punctuation (and I'm thinking to myself this girl is quite the anomaly). She tells me she wants to get a drink at a winebar, which loosely translated means: I've been so horny for the last week and I don't think my vibrator will suffice. So I accompany her to a winebar on the UES, and endure two hours of TxtSpk sprinkled in the conversation about our jobs. By 11PM I decide that I'm either going to have to be completely shattered to continue any type of conversation with her, or just walk her home and head directly to Ryan's Daughter. Being the cheap bastard that I am, I decided to just walk her home and head to the pub.

We get to her door and she invites me in. I decide to get cute and mock her to her face, "Obv." It had gone completely over her head, and she commenced heavy petting. She tackles me onto her bed and things escalate. She's getting frisky, while we exchange bodily fluids and probably STDs, it dawns on me: WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING? I can't do this. Sex would be a gchat conversation with her, and I'm not even attracted to her in the slightest. Dirty talk played over in my head like a broken record: LOL, Obv. Whatevs. I immediately started talking some sense to myself: no way. I can't & I'm pretty sure I will never be able to think of sex the same again.

Luckily TxtSpk Grl got the picture as I retied my Chuck Taylors on my way out of her studio. She realized our best conversations occurred via text and wasn't so delusional to think that we could ever be anything more than what that was - GREAT TEXT!

*Note: there seems to be confusion by many readers. Allow me to clarify that I did not sleep with TxtSpk Grl. Instead of re-writing the post, I thought I'd make it clear in this addendum.