Let Fred and me relate to you one ass-crazy texting fiasco.
Exposition: My number is listed in Fred’s phone with 1 number off. I called the first week of January to see what he was up to, but he didn’t answer and I didn’t leave a message. Keep in mind that at this point, my number is now a rogue call due to being one number off. The only number Fred would suspect from a 626 area code is his ex.
So, he sees the number as 626, thinking it was his ex; he didn’t answer, but he had entered my number in his phone as said ex. So now, I am unwittingly playing Fred’s ex-girlfriend.
Flash-forward to January 12, Fred gets a text from my number that says “Bar tonight?” which, interestingly, I do not recall and doesn’t show up in my sent messages history. Fred, with his exquisite manners, is unavailable as he’s in the airport during this text, but wanting to hang out with her he proposes dinner for next week (also a text I did not get).
So poor Fred thinks that things are on the mend; Fred touches down Monday night and says he wants to get dinner sometime this week. I didn’t respond since I didn’t get this text, but now he’s getting riled up because there is a chance that the phantom ex-girlfriend is being coy.
Thursday Fred texts wanting to put the best foot forward in patching things up with said ex, asking if I (she…) wants to go to a bar tomorrow night which is a Friday.
Have you seen my last post? I went to San Diego on Friday. So I respond to this message (which I actually get) that I’m going to be in San Diego starting Friday. Now, this reinforces evidence that I am the ex-girlfriend because she goes to San Diego to visit a friend at least once a month (usually for the whole weekend). So Fred offers to hang out when I (she) gets back.
So today rolls around, I (she) gets back from San Diego and I message Fred along with others to see what my Los Angeleans are up to. He tells me about the Magritte Exhibit (which I actually want to see, too) and we have a conversation about me working (which I always am) — in any case, Fred suggests dinner. I respond in a half daze after waking up that I fell asleep but that I was down to hang out because I was sick of my family already. As Fred construes this as reticence, it reinforces my (her) identity. He proposes Korean BBQ (which his ex enjoys), and this is the part that you all must read verbatim:
Fred: “No problem (smiley), I was feeling like some Korean BBQ in K-Town. What do you think?”
Nico: “Sure, sounds cool. Should we meet somewhere?”
Fred: (note: Fred’s ex does not have a car, so she takes the Metro everywhere and so he tries to find the closest Metro line to his house) “It would be easiest for me to pick you up. The closest Metro station is the 7th st. Station. Whichever way is qui ker; the sooner I get some food in my belly the better.”
Nico: (note: I drive) “I’m out of the way in the other direction, how about I drop my car off at your place?”
(note: at this point, Fred is thinking “oh, so she (I) has a car now.” Also, in this note, I am at Fred’s on a regular basis.)
Fred: “Sure, my address is [insert Fred’s Address] — basically where the 110 and 101 meet right by downtown.”
(lag in response)
Fred: “It’s a little hard to find; up a driveway that’s next to some shops and a bar called El Chubasco. There’s a little red hardware store across the street called Do-It-Center. Let me know if you need any help finding it.”
Nico: (note: this is where it gets weird, as if it isn’t already) “Dude, I’ve affl there a lot so I’ve got it down hehe. On my way!”
———–
Alright, so after a while, I randomly show up at Fred’s place, Fred thinks nothing of it since I’m always here, and poor Fred is sitting here for 2.5 hours wondering where the hell this ex is. 10:30 rolls around, he’s concerned, so he texts “Hey, how’s the drive going, is everything alright?” A couple minutes go by so he probably thinks she is just on the road and can’t respond. So he buckles down and decides to call, braving possible awkward silences and ex-girlfriend vitriol (what a trooper – ladies, he is single and a real catch, btw), he presses call, and he hears my phone ring in the next room.
Yeah.
Best. Anecdote. Ever.
So now, Fred and I are going to get dinner and follow through with this because we are laughing entirely too hard about this that to not end the story this way is just inappropriate.
It has recently come to my attention (thanks, Fred) that Los Angeles is going to impose a fine and possible jail time to our city’s beloved Taco Trucks.
