If I Can't Sleep...

Then neither are you.

Ugh, men. It never fails that they think it is a great idea to text me past midnight. Unless I've been out tearing up the happening towns of Hammond or Ponchatoula, I'm probably not awake. As a matter of fact, I probably have to wake up ridiculously early to go to work. I do also have this thing called a kid. He doesn't like to let me sleep in either. I know! So exciting.

Either way, I like my sleep--a lot. I hate when I've been deprived of my sleep by no choice of my own. I've been disturbed from my sleep post-midnight for the past few weekends by random douche bags. I even had one call me and leave a voice mail at 8 am. What a winner. I'm calling that one back. Especially after he sent me the picture text of a yard with chickens shortly after. Yard eggs = love?

At the very least, I could laugh it all off as misguided attempts to win me over. I have to admit I'm slightly flattered and not entirely mad, just irritated by my lack of sleep. This past Friday, however, not only made me mad, but left me just insulted enough that I feel a gauntlet has been thrown.

Yes, that's you DBMurph! (I hope you like your new nickname. I think it's kind of catchy, and it's how your number is now saved in my phone.) Our dear friend, DB, after pulling the typical disappearing act of any young boy caught stealing milk off the farm, decided he'd text me at 3 am one fine Saturday morning. Why? Because he really thought after treating me like a cow patty, I'd be so lacking in self respect that I'd let him back on the farm to get some milk.

And here's the funny part: Up until that moment, I still actually liked the douche bag for some ungodly reason. A genuine apology with no expectations, and I would have completely forgiven him. Fuck all if I know why, but I still like my sleep better. I liked him so much, that even after how he treated me, I showed him unprecedented respect and deleted his number, his Facebook, and his IM from my contact lists and just let that chicken fly the coop. I didn't text him at 3 am asking him why. I didn't send him a million e-mails asking him why. I was a big girl, big girls know people are shit. I hate people.

But, DB couldn't show me the same respect. I'm guessing he either didn't notice we were no longer FB friends or didn't take that as a BIG hint that texting me drunk was probably a bad idea. Especially when he was drunk and hoping we might rekindle some milking. And ya know, when I called him on that tidbit he pulled the same vanishing act again rather than just facing up.

Now, I'm insulted. Completely and totally insulted that he really thought he could still get a booty call out of me. (Dude, your dick ain't made of gold, nor are you black or Italian.) So, tonight he got a page out of the age-old crazy book I've experienced time and time again. Granted, it is a Saturday night, so he was probably awake and drunk again anyway, but that's okay. He was so kind as to make sure his number was back in my phone. Which means we can try again another day! This is going to be more fun that late night bouts of Angry Birds!!!

So, DB, I hope you like creepers, gay men, and redneck bull dykes. I just got a new number in the 504.


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