Happy Birthday to the Mystery Man who owned my cellphone number before me whose texts with dirty pictures, requests for drugs and notices from Amazon that your Statistics textbook is in keep coming.
This Facebook post is how my morning started out. While on a long walk through my neighborhood, my phone buzzed. I thought it was my friend who I was meeting later in the week for coffee. But, no, it was a text for the Mystery Man who owned the cellphone number before me. Lo and behold, it was his birthday, and he was receiving some brotherly love from one of his cohorts who apparently wasn’t informed that his “brother’s” number was changed and now assigned to a 40+-year old housewife with two kids and a butt-load of laundry to do. So much for the brotherhood.
Just a few months ago, my husband upgraded my crappy, Target end-cap cellphone for a Samsung Galaxy, all due to an upcoming blog project I’d involved myself in. It entailed visiting a science museum with my family; enjoying the blogger perks of free admission, lunch, swag bag and extra, private demonstrations; and writing a post all about it. Cake, right?
So my tech-savvy-happy hubby availed himself of the task of locating me a cellphone. He found a used one, and I discovered that I was back as part of the 21st century again. Besides the ultra cool functions, access to my favorite social media sites and feeding my Candy Crush addiction, I unwrapped other sweet surprises. Someone else’s text messages!
The first one arrived over the summer. A picture of a furry, flat groundhog sitting in a random backyard appeared. The text read, “Hey, neighbor, look what we have roaming in the yard!” Neighbor?! I wondered in puzzlement, knowing about the influx of groundhogs in our neighborhood. No neighbor had my cellphone number. My mom didn’t even have my new number yet! And my husband who purchased the damn thing couldn’t remember the number, either! So I deleted the messages and went along my merry way.
Maybe a week had gone by and another text appeared. Oh, goody, it’s a picture this time! OH, NO! It’s a dark-haired woman, turned backwards, her bare ass pushed out! With a caption reading, “How do you like that!?” Thanks! No, I don’t. Ugh!
“Why didn’t you forward it to me?!?” my husband cried out in frustration. A dirty look, not picture, answered his question.
Then arrived a succession of texts involving unnamed drug requests from various desperate texters. Do you have any? Can I get some from you? What do you have? The only time any particular drug was mentioned by name was when the requester typed in weed. Well, I know what that is, but no, sorry, I don’t have any. Why, you ask? BECAUSE I’m a 40+-year old housewife who would more likely offer you a glass of Pinot Grigio than weed! Or Xanax if you’re really on edge. Or maybe you’d enjoy a nice micro-brew beer from my husband’s stash?
The school year started and with that, fresh, new texts. I received a message from Amazon that my book was on its way. What book? Being a voracious reader and book hoarder, I quite possibly ordered a book or at least a sample chapter, but I never used my phone to order books. I either download them directly onto my Kindle or hopped on the computer, perused my lengthy Amazon Wish List, added books I didn’t need or have time to read, and then ordered. And I rarely did the latter, choosing to order books through my husband’s Prime account featuring free shipping and lower prices.
More texts regarding this book, shrouded in mystery, arrived. Just generic texts stating my book would be here soon. I could hardly wait to see what I ordered (there were some embarrassing books on my list — READ: Sweet Valley High). However, before the book arrived, I received the text solving the mystery of What Book Did MB Order? And, frankly, it couldn’t be a more boring and unwanted book to me. Amazon’s latest text revealed the name of the book as…
Introduction to Statistics. (yawn)
Hmm…the identity of not only the book I, thankfully, wouldn’t be receiving, but the Mystery Man who ordered said book was slowly but surely unfolding.
Here was a text I snickered at, involving both recipient aka Mystery Man and the extremely concerned texter. “Hey, dude, can you untag me on Facebook from that party Saturday? My parents look at my account.” Oh, what a shame! Would the anxious texter get his message to Mystery Man in enough time to divert mom and dad from witnessing their baby participating in outrageous party hijinks? Will we ever know? To be continued…
Until today, though, I hadn’t heard from any of Mystery Man’s “friends” who either wanted to share pictures of half-naked women or ask for drugs from the Mystery Man’s vast pseudo-pharmaceutical counter. No cute, furry animal suspended from a branch, saying, “Hang In There!”, either.
So receiving Mystery Man’s birthday text today was almost like a triumphant visit from an old friend.
From these texts alone, I’ve surmised that Mystery Man, whose birthday is October 29, making him a Scorpio, is a college-age and enrolled- male; likes brunettes who enjoy taking selfies of their big, tanned butts; apparently is the only reliable drug connection for his “friends” who don’t even have access to his new number after almost four months, and is studying (but wouldn’t that unfairly interrupt his social life?) for a Business-related major. Also, he enjoys nature as evidenced in his interest in receiving illicit photos of furry animals like groundhogs. Sounds like a catch to me! Aah, to be young again! Not really a love connection, huh?
So I’m wondering what mistaken identity text messages/calls/mail have you received and how did you handle them?
Bio: M.B. Sanok is a freelance writer and stay-at-home mom living with her family in South Jersey. She is a contributing writer for Jersey Moms Blog and her work has also appeared in South Jersey MOM magazine, MetroKids MomSpeak, BlogHer, Bonbon Break and Moms Who Write and Blog. In her spare time, she volunteers for the International MOMS Club, a non-profit support group for stay-at-home moms. Her personal blog is Maple Brown Sugar. Find her on Twitter, Facebook, and Pinterest.