The Emotional Spectrum of a Text

The requisite thought process when you* get a text from a number you don’t recognize:

Me: Yay, a text!

Also Me: Uh… who is this?

Me: This is awkward. This person is nice enough to send me a text asking how the handstand workshop I went to last night went and I don’t even know who it is! I’m such an asshole.

Also Me: Maybe it’s Rebekah or Sean.

Me: I have them both saved in my phone… and they were both at the workshop.

Also Me: Right. It could be Tatiana. We talked about this workshop at class a few weeks ago and she said she thought she was going to go, but then she didn’t show last night.

Me: She’s never texted me before and it doesn’t seem like something she would just randomly do. She would FB message me, or text Rebekah if she wanted to know if it was a cool workshop. It’s not her.

Also Me: OK, so it’s someone who I know well enough they want to know if I enjoyed my class, but not well enough I have him or her saved in my contacts or have ever texted with them before…

Me: This is stupid. I should just text them back, “Who is this?” It’s a reasonable question! Whenever I text someone I haven’t texted before I always sign it. That’s common courtesy.

Also Me: It just seems so confrontational. This person is just trying to be nice! And what if it’s a weird phone thing and it is someone I know really well and my phone is just being a dick and lost the contact? That shit happens. And if I’m weird about it I could totally alienate someone who I really like. Then they’ll never text me asking about my random hobbies again. Or, what if it’s a friend I talk to online all the time who just decided to text me instead of messaging me because it was easier from her phone?

Me: Well this can’t be that hard to figure out. I just need to reason through it. Who knew I was going to a handstand workshop last night and has my phone number?

Also Me: Well, I ‘checked in’, announcing I was attending a handstand workshop, on my completely open Facebook account last night.

Me: And my cell number is both on my super-unprotected-in-any-way Facebook account and in bold at the top of my website, plus on signs in front of all of my listings and on every email I send out.

Also Me: So… the entire Internet and most of Arizona.

Me: Right.

Also Me: OK, OK. Maybe just text them back, “It was great!” and see what they reply back. That could give me some clues to help figure out who exactly it is.

Me: Not a bad idea. But what if it’s a stalker?

Also Me: You mean like a fan? Of my blog?

Me: Well, a ‘fan’ writes comments on the blog. Or possibly messages you through the website or Facebook to say they like your writing or think you’re funny. A ‘stalker’ goes to the trouble of texting your cell about your personal activities.

Also Me: You think I could really have a stalker/fan?? That could be kind of awesome. Only the really good, popular blogs have stalkers. And if this person is a stalker, they seem like a really considerate one. I think I might enjoy having a stalker who texts me to ask me how my day is going and how I’m feeling every once in awhile.

Me: Remember that time early on in real estate when I did an open house and the next day got those emails from some guy who said he’d come through to tour the house? They started out super friendly and complimentary and rapidly turned to creepily describing my outfit and my legs the day before.

Also Me: That still gives me the chills. I was alone in an enormous house with that guy. Ugh. OK, better to figure out who this is before responding in a friendly and inviting manner.

Me: I’ll just have to wait and try Googling the number when I’m not driving.

Later…

Me: AHA! It’s Rachel, the owner of the Circus School! I guess she wanted feedback on how the class went because she wasn’t there.

Also Me: So it wasn’t a friend who cared enough to ask about the class.

Me: Or even a stalker/fan.

Also Me: Like 33 people read the blog. It’s probably not shocking there’s no stalker/fan.

Me: *Sigh*

Updated (because I love that you guys take time out of your busy days to fuck with me) to add:

*And by ‘you’, I mean ‘me’.