After I agree to meet him the texts end for the evening and I cozy up under my heated blanket, comforter, and pink sheets… sounds like a lot of covers for a little lady, but I’m cold even when its 98 degrees outside. I’m like a chameleon. My shade changes with the seasons and I can often be seen outdoors sunning myself in order to gain warmth. But, enough about my chameleon qualities, back to the Bocher:
Monday morning arrives and as I help my manager set-up the equipment at Gymboree Play and Learn, I receive a text from Bocher # 1. He waited an entire 12 hours to have contact, wow, he deserves a cookie. The text reads:
‘I have a present for you.’
After reading this, I laugh and question what kind of present he could have waiting. Later, I mention the text to my sister and brother in law, both of whom have been updated on Mr. Crazy and I’s strange status. In response, my brother in law says, ‘I know what kind of package he has.’ He then makes a crude motion to his penis and my sister and I both roll our eyes and say, ‘Eww.’
My day continues without any further texts from Bocher. He waits until the evening to make his next move, and it’s a big one.
After getting out of the shower I look to my cell and behold one new text from him. It reads: (I hope you are sitting down reader, or are close to the nearest restroom, because you might pee in your pants after this one)
‘Would you like to move in together?’
Even now, I cannot help but laugh from shock,because truthfully who asks that after four dates, or better yet, who the hell texts that? Who? Ahh yes, Bocher #1 does! Oy vay!
I’m pretty astounded and confused. I’ll recap the last blog of texts: ‘you are a narcissist, you hurt my feelings, you are replaceable, ta-ta… but wait, let’s move in together,’ yep that’s normal.
Honestly, what I’d like to write back is, ‘Bist meshugeh?’ (Are you crazy?)
But instead I text:
His: (even better than the first)
‘Please bring your stuff. I’d also like to discuss the possibility of us getting pregnant sooner rather than later.’
My mouth is agape. I mean come on; he has to know I’m writing a blog, what other reason would there be for his ridiculousness. The texts are a pot of gold. Finding him has been like having the matching $ signs on the dollar scratch off, and winning not just my dollar back, but instead, 2!
I tell him we can discuss that later, and suggest we just meet for dinner this Friday evening.
‘Talk is cheap. I’m talking about doubling down and diving in head first.’
He then goes on to tell me about the many girls he’s been boning over the past few weeks, and I wonder, who’s the shlooche (slut) now? I haven’t been boning dozens of Bochers. Mr. Booty call and I have ended our fun, because he’s a putz (dick/ penis), and I realize that he will never koved (respect) a Ms. Booty call, and koved (respect) is truly what I deserve.
I try to steer the texts in a direction that does not involve babies or the making of a home…but he’s very persistent in his wants, until I tell him that I’d ‘simply like to get to know him.’
Suddenly, he doesn’t want me so much. He goes from wanting us to cohabitate and have little kinder (kids) to now being indifferent about us meeting for dinner.
He writes, ‘I thought we had potential but I wasn’t really enjoying myself (hence I want you to move in). I’m seeing some other ladies but they aren’t artsy like you. I’d be happy being friends. Take it easy. I’m indifferent either way.’
He then goes on to tell me that (got tsu danken-thank god) he’s free Friday and is having a hard time ‘getting a sense of who you are,’ considering I ‘play games and rely on the imposition of others.’
I see no point in arguing with him and simply say I’ll see him Friday. If I argue the texts will continue and I’m exhausted from Monday and him.
The week continues without a single text from Bocher #1, and I am extremely grateful. I use the week to relay the texts and conversation to a number of people; my sister, brother –in-law, co-workers, and mother, all of whom have similar responses of he's 'meshugeh ahf toit (really crazy).’ My sister says I should definitely not go out with him again, he could be truly geferleh(dangerous).
I think about my need for a good blog post in conjunction with my need to live another day. Sorry, I choose another day and text him Friday to tell him I’m not feeling well, because I’m a pussy who simply can’t ‘just say no.’
He replies and tells me that he hopes I feel better. I breathe a sigh of deep, deep relief, and continue with my Friday.
That night, he texts me to see how I’ m feeling and I wonder if maybe he is a good guy, but soon receive an answer after I tell him ‘sleeping, but better.’
‘You are a complete joke! Keep sleeping suck.’
So, after yet again deleting his number from my phone, I do just that.
I roll over and keep sleeping. Who’s the sucka now?