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When She Doesn’t Text Back: The Sequel

Love is a dog from hell.

                      -Charles Bukowski.

So if you haven’t read the original post When She Doesn’t Text Back, I suggest you do. Or don’t, and fuck off, I don’t care. But then this won’t make sense. In the post I made a promise to my 17 or so loyal readers that I would call the infamous Jamie whom I met last Friday night after a delightful meet cute™. Well grab a seat kids… you’ll only need the edge.

Last Thursday early afternoon I called her. I will preface by saying I have gone up to hundreds of girls I didn’t know at bars and never once felt nervous. I even went up to actress Kristy Swanson once at a casino in Vegas and didn’t flinch. However I only knew her as Christie Boner from Dude Where’s My Car? and had no idea she was well-known or in any other form of cinema. Looking back I don’t think I was technically hitting on her, but here is how our interaction went:

Drunk 21-year-old Mike: Hey are you Christie Boner?

Christie Boner: Yeah… wait, that is what you recognize me from?

Drunk 21-year-old Mike: Yeah I’ve watched that movie 100 times. You were great. Should I know you from something else?

Christie Boner: *walks away*

Well EX-CUUUUSE ME. Get off your high horse, you hot piece of pompous ass. You’re the one who took a role where the character’s last name was Boner. Be proud of your work! I subsequently IMDb’d her and to be fair she was in quite a few notable movies beforehand such as Big Daddy, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Buffy the Vampire Slayer among others, but Dude, Where’s My Car? was a cinematic gem, what are you so pissy about. She was also in Pretty in Pink but it was a non-speaking role. Yeah, like I’m going to recognize the blonde dink who didn’t say anything. Whatever.

But calling this girl after two non-responsive texts, I was absolutely trembling. I’ll admit it is kind of refreshing to do things that are uncomfortable. It predictably went to voice mail but I was ready. The message was psychotically scripted beforehand. It was possibly funny but I don’t know if it was funny enough to change someone’s mind on ever wanting to see me again. It’s also possible it was unfunny enough to have a restraining order filed. The verbal memorandum was as follows:

Hey Jamie, this is Mike, the somewhat funny but not really kinda cute idiot you met Friday. Cute like… I don’t know… a mangy three-legged dog or something. At any rate I was hoping to try out this new bar in Benton Park tonight or tomorrow, wanted to see if you’ll reluctantly join me… Would be cool to see you again but at this point I’ll settle for a “Fuck off Mike, I’m not interested.” That would actually be great. Let me know.

Me leaving that voice mail


‘You have a new voice mail from: Scotty Squarewheels.’

After I left the message I thought to myself, if I don’t hear back from her I will never know what happened between the short time period of getting her number and now. I think since this has happened twice now, it’s possible I’m blacking out for the last ten seconds of the conversation and saying something so dogshit that it completely countervails whatever great convo we had prior, eradicating the impression I made.

So right after I say “Yeah, I’ll call you,” I follow it up with something like:

“I think mass genocide was a great idea. We need a new age Hitler.” 


“They were called Adam & Eve, not Adam & STEVE. Gay marriage makes me sick.”

Or maybe

“Wanna get out of here? I am hung like a tuna can.”

Or even

“I think guac SHOULD be extra. It’s a delicacy.”

All of those comments are equally offensive. Only one of those statements is actually true in my mind but I am not saying which one. 

But as I am writing this part of the blog, I am actually rewriting it. The rest of Thursday, Friday and Saturday all went by without word from my dream inamorata so I sat down yesterday morning and wrote this post. I felt like a well-behaved house pet who has been spontaneously struck by their drunk owner simply for showing my love and affection. So confused. So hurt. I’ll never understand. I was so embarrassed on my failed wooing attempts that I decided to trick all of you by making this very believable photoshopped screenshot below:


It was tough for me to make that. Not difficult technologically, I have a MacBook Pro (humble brag). But because I have never once lied on this website. A lot of people think this writing is satirical but I’ve never been more humorless in my life with these articles. This is serious stuff.

So the post was ready to go for the most part until this happened…

Jane, you ignorant slut. It was 3:18 pm (her time) Sunday when she presumably pocket dialed me by mistake. Or became desperate. Or just got out of an eight-day coma. Or had her pretend boyfriend call me from her phone to tell me to kindly fuck off.. Who knows. I am out west traveling and I wasn’t able to pick up but I almost creamed my jeans staring at it ring. I called back four hours later to no avail and have yet to hear back. Back to desolation row I go.

But the dance continues! Whatever she is doing is next-level thinking and totally working. I was ready to move on and she does this. What kind of game is this? Like, no, I don’t want to hang out or actually speak, but I am going to pleasure myself to the thought that we almost did.

This website is just going to turn into the chronicles of meeting this woman. Maybe I will meet her before the 10th installment of this story. But I know I have to play it out because it has all the makings of America’s next charming rom-com script. Also, based on how many people reached out to me after the original post asking what happened next, it’s clear my turmoil amuses you all. Either way I am so fucking intrigued with this girl. I almost don’t want to meet her because I don’t want this titillation to end; satisfaction is the death of desire.

I just hope she does not come across this site. She’s clearly a little skeptical of seeing me again and if she has even an ounce of interest in me, reading this drivel is sure to obliterate that. My inability to attract women is pretty good but I feel like showing girls my writing is a guaranteed way to never get laid again. Female repellent.

As for my next move… I have no idea. I’ve never tangoed like this before. All I know is I am outmatched and I’m sure whatever I do next, I will write about it like an idiot. Stay tuned…


“The sweetest four words in the English language? You wore me down.”

     – Tom Haverford