Thousand Word Texts
One of my favorite exercises in masochism is re-reading old text conversations with ex-lovers. I can’t yet tell if this is the kind of alone behavior that is common or freakish. It’s kind of like a little test. If I re-read the conversation and spontaneously begin to cry I know that I’m not over it. Some part of “it,” whatever that may be.
If I don’t cry, then I begin to ruminate on the ways that time changes us. I think about how I used to cry when I read that conversation but now I don’t. It becomes hard for me to tell whether I’ve grown stronger or more numb.
One of my favorite things to do is to send really long dramatic texts. A couple thousand words broken up into digestible several-sentence-long texts. Almost any sentient friend of mine would likely advise against this. I don’t really care though. There’s something strangely empowering about doing something that no one thinks you should do, but that you really really want to do — something that any relationship expert or “hey ladies” kind of advice-giver would advise against.
I tend to employ a very casual tone, using “u” instead of “you” or normal texting jargon like “wtf” even though I’ve likely drafted it all in my notes and revised it multiple times. With any given 2000 word string of emotional texts, I’ve likely read it through at least ten times. The “budddyyyyyyyy” and miscellaneous irregular punctuation is intentional. The use of normal texting tone and conventions helps to create an “I don’t really care” voice. That part is integral to the whole operation.
A two thousand word text inherently conveys that the author cares a lot. So, in order to balance out the over-eager, potentially clingy, or borderline neurotic energy of the text, the content itself must employ a relaxed and sometimes playful or joking tone.
Oh, and the text needs to come completely out of the blue. Communication has probably died out and it’s clear they have no interest in speaking to you. That’s when you drop your manifesto. You’re not doing it because you want attention, you’re doing it because it’s an emotional necessity.
Texting first is a dangerous act, but integral to this process. I’ve had friends who take part in an internal debate for hours, days, sometimes weeks, over whether or not they should be the first to reach out. When it comes to all matters of texting, I firmly believe in the “just do it” model wherein when one desires to text someone, they should just do it.
However, lately I’ve found myself in my own week-long debate concerning to text or not to text. I want to, so I know it’s going to happen eventually. It’s just a matter of time.
I began writing this piece thinking it would crescendo into me finally sending a text that had been a week in the making. However, this is not exactly what happened. I was (per usual) advised against sending the 2100 word text. Instead, I was told to ask to call. Against my normal (not better) judgement, I politely asked if we could talk on the phone sometime soon. He, in a strangely friendly manner, agreed.
Multiple times throughout the call I was hit with the pang of “why am I talking to this person?”. The interaction lacked all of the drama, excitement, and masked confrontation of a rambling 2100 word text.
I didn’t have the courage to ask the harder questions. Maybe my long texts aren’t funny or bold or quirky. Maybe they’re just cowardly. Maybe really long texts are a form of self-care. Or maybe they’re just self-soothing — they itch something deep within you but don’t actually accomplish anything productive or beneficial to your wellbeing. But who’s to say that everything needs to be done to this end? There is of course a place in life (sometimes a rather large place) for the self-soothing. More importantly though, what is the place for the self-soothing in a relationship?
