I woke up today as sluggish as I normal do, around the productive time of 11:45 am. Normally I check my phone and have 1, maybe 2 missed calls and the same amount of text messages, but never cool enough to be flooded with any amount of anything. Today was different.
I had 15 missed calls and 4 new text messages. 15. I’ll give everyone in the world a hint, if by call number 3 the person doesn’t pick up, really sink your head into the idea that the person would rather not speak to you. At all. Or they’re unavailable. Either or. This is made worse by the fact that my ringback tones are 4 Disney songs, Hakuna Matata, A Whole New World, Bear Necessities, and Under the Sea, so maybe that makes calling 15 times good. Or bad.
Of course there are some voicemails, 2 specifically. The first one (from John Doe, so I’ll call him Hank), I’ll shorten it, goes like this:
“Hey Dan, I live in the Gainesville area and my partner just moved away. I’ll be honest with you, I’m 40 years old, I have a wife and kids, but this is something I like to do on the side. I really just want to suck your dick. You can suck mine too, you don’t have to, but I want to suck yours, mostly. You can cum on my face, and even though I haven’t yet I want to try fucking a man, but I haven’t tried yet. If that’s something you want to do, I would be open to it. I’ll call back later and hopefully catch you then. Oh, I think you’re fucking hot.”
No number, no name. Called from an anonymous number, which is good, because who knows when temptation would creep up on me and I’d want nothing more than a Hank sandwich. Hank called 14 times. He also left text messages, one saying “Congrats on graduating!”, which I thought was odd, because Hank couldn’t care less if I graduated. That should have read “I don’t care about what you’ve done in your life, let’s have sex”. By the way, ladies, that’s the text 95% of guys really feel like sending you, especially when you start talking about how funny that inside joke with your friend Kelly was at the bar last night. Non sequiturs make me happy.
The next voicemail was just heavy panting. Could be Hank, could be someone else. The panting grew steadily heavier, leading me to believe the panter was masturbating. My conjecturing was quelled when I KNEW he was masturbating because it was either that or he was holding the phone to his head in the middle of a 5k. What gave away that he wasn’t running? Most people don’t start yelling “Oh fuck! Oh fuck yeah!” in the middle of a brisk jog. Most.
I get another call, while I’m awake this time, and I answer it. It was Hank. Hank was very happy I answered. He almost verbatim regurgitated his message, which was funny via voicemail, but now was creepy as all hell. I felt gross, as if somehow he could trick me into going gay (not that there’s anything wrong with it). I politely told him I was sorry but we were both on the receiving end of a prank, and he was very upset.
“Wait, you’re not gay?”
“No, I’m sorry. Someone put my information up and I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.”
“Oh, that’s so uncool. I can’t believe someone would do that…..(thinks for a second)… so you wouldn’t be open to any of this?”
“Again, I’m not gay. Really, though, good luck with everything, sorry about the mix up.”
“….Well have you ever tried it? How do you know you wouldn’t like it?” (Weird how Hank uses the same method my Mom did when I was a kid to get me to eat a new, odd looking vegetable to try and have gay sex)
“Really, sorry about everything, but I have to go. Bye”
I mean, after he knows I’m not gay, knows he’s been used to make a joke, a part of Hank feels “Hey, I can convince this guy to be gay, right now”. If Hank had succeeded in doing that, then kudos, Hank, you could probably sell snow to Eskimos and really should think about getting into timeshare.
P.S. I later found out that Hank had sent me 2 voicemails, apparently not knowing he had left 2, maybe he thought he deleted one. I managed to keep that one and posted it in another blog above. He gives his real name, but some things change. Weird guy.
