Unlimited Texting, Games Included

Beep, beep, beep.

I awake in my bed, disoriented from a late Friday afternoon nap. I look at my cell phone. A text message from Max glows on the screen.

Max 5:49 pm: “Can we hang out tonight? I miss youuu.”

What? We rarely speak. Is this one of those generic texts you send out to girls when you and your girlfriend are having a tiff?

Is this sincere, or is this text just a pawn in a calculated play to make your girlfriend jealous?

“Ok, well I’m sorry, I have plans tonight, but yeah I’d like to hang out sometime soon, since you ‘miss me’ and all.”

My typed words are sliding pieces. Two can play at this game.

Beep, beep, beep.

Max 5:57 pm: “Oh, shut up, I don’t see you saying anything nice like that to me.”

Someone’s feeling ballsy just because he’s shot a few ounces of Jager. I’m not going to feed his drunken ego and tell him he’s a great friend.

“Because I’m not going to say that over text. I haven’t seen you in awhile. How do I know you’re not wasted right now?”

Max 6:03 pm: “Oh, I’m sorry. Never mind then.”

Shit, maybe he was sincere.

It’s time to evaluate the damage in this car wreck of a conversation.

“Are you mad or something?”

Max 6:09 pm: “Well you jumped down my throat.”

I’m losing – fast.

“I’m sorry. I thought you were drunk. Don’t be mad, next time I see you I’ll buy you a shot.”

I pound out the message fast before it marinates in my mind for too long, then toss my phone to the other end of the bed and wait for a response.

Max 6:13 pm: “Okkayy, I’m sorry too, and I am a little drunkkk, so I guess you called it.”

I knew it.

“Yeah I know.”

Checkmate. We’re games, every one of us.

Suzann Caputo

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