Phone Contacts and Miscommunications

The other night I was wrapping things up at Hula Hula and a friend txted me. She's a friend of Heels and has been going to school somewhere in eastern Washington, so she's been AWOL for a while. AWOL has made a few trips back to Seattle, and the previous time she'd been here she'd criticized my karaoke singing and chastised me for not writing enough blog entries.

In spite of this, I wanted to see AWOL and say hello to Heels and her. So we txted back and forth a few times and she let me know where they were gonna be, and I said I'd txt her back.

So fast forward 20 minutes or so, and I started a new txt and sent it off. But not to AWOL. I sent it to Salsa, who I had not seen nor spoken to in about 30 months but had a first name quite similar to AWOL.

The following txt exchange happened as I was walking to meet Heels and AWOL:

Salsa Txt: Who is this?

My Brain: Oh, damn. Wrong friend.

My Txt: Oh, no! I'm sorry! This is Ed. We went out a couple times like two years ago. I'm sorry for waking you up!
Salsa Txt: What's your last name?
My Brain: What? She was dating so many Eds two+ years ago that she can't keep us straight?
My Txt: [Last name]. We met at salsa on Capitol Hill. We went out, like, four times. I have lots of cats and I wear Calvin Klein boxer briefs.

Fortunately that triggered her memory (probably the underwear part). She seemed unperturbed that I was txting at 2:30. I still hope I didn't wake her up.

This paled, though, in comparison to a similar mix-up that a waitress I met yesterday at lunch experienced over the weekend. Here's (a paraphrased version) of her story:

"I am, like, so hung over right now. I am not even trying to think about it. But last night (and I have to tell you what I drank, because it was such a copious amount) I had two [some random cocktail] and a chocolate sea salt martini (I didn't really need it, but it sounded so good, you know?) and, like, three glasses of wine and I was all, like, [staggered around to demonstrate].

I've recently been dating David, I call him big David because he's got a capital "D" in his name in my phone. I dated another David before him, and I call him little david because he's a lower-case "d" in my phone.

I txted little david late last night and asked him to come over and he, was, like, "Are you sure?" and I was, like, "Sure!" but I'd intended txt big David... so when little david showed up, I opened the door and asked him what he was doing there, and then I told him to go home."

That's cold. First he's known as "little david" and then that. She is one loquacious food server, though...