Texts From My Dad

Throughout this blog’s history, I haven’t always talked about texts in the most positive light. Let’s just say I (in the past) have called them annoying, invasive, and let’s just say (overall) mood ruiners (gossipboi knows what I’m talkin’ ’bout…). They can be real bitches.

This is a post about some texts that didn’t do any of that.

My relationship with my dad is one I don’t even quite understand. I’ve accepted that over the years. And I know he loves me, but sometimes I forget. Our interactions are so few and far between that it’s easy to forget I even have a dad. I’ve mentioned him a handful of times on this here blawg.

That is, until Valentine’s Day and he sends me a floral bouquet of tulip love to my work. Upon receiving the floral love, I texted a “thank you” to my step-mom, half-bro. FYI, I have NEVER texted my dad before, but it felt right.

He texted back, and the conversation that ensued MADE MY DAY (it actually did more than that). We didn’t chat about much, just made stupid jokes. But it was fun! Later that afternoon he called me and we caught up a little bit. I asked if he can get pictures on his phone, and he can. Now my plan is to send him a picture a week! Something random, that is kind of like a slice of my life, because he really has no idea what it’s like. And vice versa.

It’s amazing what technologies can do. Like make you feel loved. Really, really loved. Thanks texts!

Yours texting her dad (ps. wordpress says texting is not a word…however, it also says wordpress is not a word. wtf)



Your texting and wordpressing,



Peace, at last

I was complaining a couple weeks ago because I couldn’t get my Zen on, but something happened last week that blew my mind.

Another text, but this one was different. I was so…grateful. I guess is the best way to describe it.

Thanks Universe, 25swf

Lather, rinse, repeat…leave me alone MF

I thought it was clear. But obviously it wasn’t.

Last night this happened (notice the name he has acquired…that’s not Photoshopped, my friends).

Mind Fuck at his best

OK. So, was my last email interaction with him not clear? How much clearer can I be? I feel like I keep following the directions. Lather, rinse, repeat…I keep doing it. I keep making it obvious that I want nothing to do with him. I’ve completely washed him out of my life and he keeps coming around. Leave me alone.

I don’t want to respond to this horse shit, but I kind of do. I want to say, “Please don’t text me.” I want to say, “Please leave me alone.” But it also feels like I’m playing a game if I say those things. I also want to say nothing. Either way, I don’t want this to happen again.

Texting is bullshit. You can’t stop it. You can’t choose not to get it. It just pops up, rearing it’s ugly pixelated head. “You don’t want me, but you get me! HAHAHAHaaaa.” Eat me.

When I checked my phone Mr. M and I had just gotten out of a movie (Hangover 2, which is meh by the way). I am really bad at hiding my reactions. Actually, it’s impossible for me to hide how I feel about anything. So when I saw that message I sighed (outloud), “Oh, fuck.” I’m glad I said it though, because if I had attempted to hide it (so that I wouldn’t have to talk about my ex-boyfriend, which is bad taste in my opinion), it still would have come out eventually.

“Oh, fuck,” I sighed. Mr. M asked what was wrong. I told him in a calm manner, “Uhhh, just this message I got…I can talk about it in a minute, I just need a minute.” And so we talked about the movie, the Chuck Wagon Festival tents that we saw as we got on the highway (yes, we have wagon festivals in Oklahoma…we’re pretty amazing), and then he said, “So what’s up with this message?” I love how he pushes me to open up. I need that sometimes.

I showed it to him and told him this is the guy who I last dated who was awful to me. I told him that the text didn’t make me miss him, it bothered me because I want nothing to do with him, and that text brings back all the crappy memories and how hard last year was for me. And also, it bothers me that it bothered me. He listened as I told him about the last email exchange where I told MF we could not be friends. I told him about how I knew MF was only messaging me to make his current girlfriend jealous. He’s a same trick, new pony kinda-guy. And it makes me sick to my stomach that I was with him. That I fell in love with him. That I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.

Mr. M told me how he had been in a similar situation before. But he didn’t elaborate, and for some reason I didn’t ask. I think I was too self-absorbed in the MF text. It was nice for him to listen to me and just be there for me.

But then I was overwhelmed with sadness and really all I wanted to do was cry (but I didn’t, yet). This feeling hasn’t come around in quite some time, it caught me totally off guard.

We went back to Mr.M’s place, played Call of Duty and started watching this super dumb alien show we have been falling asleep to. I laid behind him and found a few tears rolling down my cheeks. I was so angry that this message was having this affect on me.

I couldn’t fall asleep. 30 minutes passed, I was restless, and wanted half-baked cookies. Playing Bejeweled wasn’t cutting it.

I gently woke Mr. M up. “Hey, I can’t sleep, I think I’m going to go home.”

In his sweet sleepy voice, “Is there something I can do?”

“No, no…I just need to sleep in my own bed I think. Thank you though.”

I got up and he walked me to the door. “It wasn’t something I did or didn’t do was it?”

“Nooooo. I’m sorry I just think I need to sleep in my own bed is all.”

So I went home, literally a block away, and I took a shower, made some cookies, and watched an episode of Angel. I crawled into bed an hour later, successfully falling into a deep slumber. A hot shower and belly full of warm cookies + Angel is enough to make any gal happy (or it may just be me).

This morning Mr. M came over and we cooked breakfast together. It was delightful. I think all I needed was my own bed to get my head straight.

Sometimes that’s all you need; to crawl between your own sheets and find your peace of mind.

And MF, I refuse to let you have any control over me. I may have to say this a few hundred more times, but I’ll say it until it sticks. MF, I REFUSE to let you have any control over me.

Yours not responding to that text and repeating herself (do you hear an echo?),


Text this (pointing to my ass)…!

I use to love texts. Random, fun little messages that would usually illuminate my day. And because I’ve been in a relationship for the majority of my life, I always found texts to be endearing when they came from my significant other.

Now I’m 25 and I don’t find texting so tantalizing. To be quite frank, it annoys the fuck out of me.

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