Text Rules

On Friday night Tucky pulled a thirty-two year old guy (nine years her senior) on a night out in Maidstone, Kent. Tucky has a tendency to get horny when drunk and this can turn her into something of a man-eater with one goal in mind: to snog any male in the vicinity. Being a hot looking girl, she never has a problem finding a willing recipient. The guy Tucky pulled was just another one in a line of unsuspecting victims and she did not even remember his name. She ended up giving him her number and leaving the club with the girls she went out with. When she woke up in the morning she discovered that she had four text messages from him. Throughout the day on Saturday, I received updates from Tucky about the texts that the guy continued to send in spite of no reply from her. The text below is the first that Tucky sent to me:

"Hiya, hows ur day bin? ive just finished 4 the day, wot a long one!! well not sure where u gone, but had an idea if ur up 4 it wud u like 2 go 2 the ice bar in mayfair, london on fri nite? just me and u? offers their anyay xx hope ur ok? x"

Apart from the spelling and grammar mistakes (particularly spelling "there" as "their") this would seem like a pleasant enough first text to send to a girl. I am a big fan of The Absolut Ice Bar in Heddon Street and I believe that this is a good place to take a girl. In fact I had wanted to go there for drinks with Tucky at the end of February but I could not book a suitable time. However, one has to bear in mind that this was text number eight. Fuck knows what the previous texts said. Despite Tucky's silence, Trevor powered on. His final text (number eleven) on Sunday reeked of desperation:

"Not sure wot i did so wrong 2 b ignored? i thought u mite have liked me? well sorry u feel u have 2 ignore me. trevor x"

This was the first text in which he revealed his name. The name, Trevor, says everything about a man in my opinion. It is a name which is associated with argyle tank tops, green blazers with leather patches on the elbows, thick rimmed glasses with lenses like jam jars and trainspotting. Tucky swears that he was nothing like this. However, the ensuing hilarity proved one thing: that he is a fucking loser of the highest order. I have images of him sitting with his friends saying "She still hasn't replied lads but if she hasn't got back to me by the eleventh text then I should probably give up." I remember one of my ex-housemates from university, Linki, who had a three text rule, i.e. you can text a girl up to three times without response before giving up. I personally think that this is the ethos of a desperate fucking loser. I can sympathise with Trevor because I know that I used to be that guy. The tinge of sympathy I feel towards him though is miniscule, considering that I have learned from my past mistakes and at the age of thirty-two he should really know better.

As far as I am concerned there is a one text rule. If a girl has not responded to me after the first text then I will sack her off. An additional rule is that I will not text the girl straight away. I prefer to leave it for at least a day, preferably two, before initiating contact. Speaking to my good friend Abs about this on the phone last night, I would concede that it is OK to text a chick on the same night just to check that she got home safely. The girl I pulled recently at The Fez Club at Casanova's birthday did not respond to my text so I fucked it off. One needs to have some self respect: she probably did not remember getting off with me and even if she did she either a) felt that she made a mistake or b) has a boyfriend that she cheated on. Either way I am not going to waste my time or compromise my dignity by chasing after her.

It got me thinking though, that texting might not be the way forward. It is easy enough for a girl to ignore text. A phone call, on the other hand, from a private number would be too intriguing to neglect. In November I went out with work colleagues to Vodka Revolution in Reading town centre. It was a Monday night so I was not expecting a good night out, although to my surprise the venue was buzzing because it was a student night. I was on top of my game that night (I had just the right amount of alcohol in my system to ooze self-confidence without coming across as arrogant) and I interacted with a number of girls. I talked to one really hot girl Hispanic girl, called Monica, at the bar whilst I was queueing to buy a round of drinks and ended up getting her phone number. A couple of days later I decided to contact her. I had only chatted to her for about three minutes before I obtained her number so we did not make a particularly meaningful connection. Given this fact I called her instead of texting her. She picked up the phone and whilst she did not remember me at first (she was also very drunk that night) she slowly started piecing the night together. The conversation went well and we even talked about potentially meeting each other on a night out in Reading until I found out that she was eighteen years old. This is slightly too young for me, although her reaction to finding out that I was twenty-five put an end to the possibility of an advancement in proceedings.

Before getting with his current girlfriend, my housemate Aces used to give his number to girls and tell them to call him. I highly rate this approach. If the girl does call or text then she is clearly interested and if she does not, then she is not, pure and simple. The one caveat to this approach is that I would not do it with a girl who I thought was really fit (i.e. a seven and a half out of ten or above) since I would rather have her number than not. For slightly above average girls I will probably start using this ploy, since it is not as if I would give a fuck if they made contact.