Om Shanti

Somehow I've been having a text affair with this guy who I think does not actually know who I am.

Reason: he once sent me an email that said something like, do you have a reply?

To which I replied, do you have the right person?

First I search to be sure I wasn't supposed to have a reply. I don't think he wrote back. And yes, I mean I don't think he wrote back. I just have no idea. That's the good and bad thing about dating in the aughts, someone has to be a truly colossal asshole to stand out.

Out of nowhere I get a text from him, do I want to go see Rilo Kiley? Well, I want to see a man my age (older, even!), who invites me out of the blue to go see Rilo Kiley. I fucking love that. But I have plans. I want to cancel the plans. I mean, I really want to cancel the plans. The sad truth is, but for the nagging fear he's gotten the wrong gal, again, I probably would have, which of course means, I did not.

So today I'm looking and looking, SURELY there must be a show coming up for which I can still get some flippin' tickets. MSTRKRFT! Awesome. But where's Studio B? And am I going to search that out on my own. This is what a boyfriend's good for; christ, I can't even get the neighbor up for tea. Whatever happened to ticket man?? So I text him--can you get tix 2 c the stars?

Weirder still...

He texts back and says, thanks for thinking of me, I have a ticket there for you, Mercury Lounge, 19 Oct.

Huh? That's not where I see the Stars playing. I have them on the 18th at Town Hall. Is this guy a charlatan or some kind of crazy ticket savant/wizard? Hmm.

I text back, after considerable debate with myself, How will you know if I come? You do want me to come, yes?

I think that's a fun text. Hell, I'd like to get that text. I'd make a counter offer to that text. But I got...da da da duuummmm...nothing.

So I'm back to thinking this guy has no idea who the hell I am. Or he's on crack. And so goes another day of perfectly viable sexual power, w a s t e d.