Players screw up sometimes. Thank God I'm not one of those and don't have to live up to the pressure of only messing up sometimes. However, nothing can excuse my latest gaffe.
I was never the type of person to put a lock on my phone. I was trying to be the very transparent person I always proclaim to be. But occasionally, transparency goes wrong, especially when you leave your phone in your pocket without locking it. This allows for so much to go down on your phone because it pretty much takes on a mind of its own while in the abyss of your pocket.
Usually, it's harmless stuff that you can catch in an instant, such as one of your music apps accidentally opening (*cough* Tidal). But sometimes, the outcome can prove a bit more disastrous. Sometimes, the infamous pocket dial occurs.
When your phone decides to do its own thing and dial random numbers in your contacts, it's usually nice enough to hit up your mother or maybe one of your boys. That's easy to brush off. No biggie.
But what happens when your phone decides to be downright petty and “accidentally” hit up one of your exes?
This is exactly what happened to me a couple of weekends ago.
I vaguely heard ringing in my pocket so I quickly pulled my phone out to hang up on whoever it was. I caught it two rings into the cycle, but it was two rings too late. The damage was done. I hung up, but reality had already set in. My phone had decided it would be cool to dial the number of my ex whom I'm not on the best of terms with.
I can't tell you what went through her head when she saw my number show up on her screen, but I can surely tell you what immediately ran through my mind:
1. "This woman really thinks I want her now."
The only person I've met with more pride than me is her. Our whole relationship was a game, an ego-feeding game of who can break up with who first and who was going to come running back first. It fueled both of our egos when the other person broke and came running back. Yeah, we played that childish ass game for two whole years in our mid-20s.
Now, two years later, I manage to butt dial her, and she's probably over there with a smirking emoji plastered all over her pretty face. She's thinking I've been suffering these past couple of years because “I'll never find anyone like her.”
2. "Damn, come to think about it, do I want her?"
I mean, I haven't found anyone quite like her. I'm extremely single, and I'm cool with that. But, I can't lie: We did have something rare.
Was this God's way of telling me something? Out of all the hundreds of contacts in my phone, my butt cheek landed on her number. Maybe I was in the wrong, and I need to rethink this whole breakup thing. Or, it could just be the devil playing cruel and unusual tricks on me. Yeah, I'm going to go with the latter.
3. "Actually, I'm pretty sure she's the one who wants me back."
What is there for me to rethink, anyway? She threw it all away. She has to realize what she had. Nobody will ever treat her like me and put up with what I put up with.
I'm sure those two rings likely did put a smirk on her face. It was a smirk of hope. Because while I might not ever find another one like her, she damn sure knows she'll never find another one like me.
4. "Does she miss me?"
I mean, does she? Maybe she has moved on and is happier. But does she at least think about the good times we had?
I don't even know why a pocket dial even has me concerned about this. It's really none of my business. Get it together.
*Plays “Do You” by Ne-Yo*
5. "Fuck that."
It was a pocket dial. That's all. Shit happens.