I was in a bit of a slump. It was college. Spring break had ended, but I was still doing too much blow. I was depressed, and I wasn't leaving my apartment much. I was zapped of color, and I didn't have much interest in soaking any up. Plus, I was in the Midwest, so I couldn't get a decent haircut anywhere.
I went to class to review for a test. Plagues and People, the class was called. It was a really uplifting topic.
I hadn't been there in weeks, so I was surprised to see the leggy brunette still sitting at the desk in front of mine. I almost forgot about her.
She was a Texan sorority girl, with big white earrings that took up her whole head. She had that adorable type of disposition that made you wonder if she even knew the alphabet, and I'm an atheist from Brooklyn with commitment issues and a family that owns a pizzeria. Plagues, man. They really bring people together.
I invited her over my apartment to study. We ended up on my couch with some Angry Orchards (her choice) and a Clooney movie, in which he's handsome and not much else happens (my strategic choice). We got about 12 minutes in before climbing onto each other.
I am many things, but I am not a man to run from my shortcomings. And that's what this was, in the most literal sense. Four or five thrusts, and I was done. (Well, maybe there were six. Like I said, it had been a slump.)
She was upset, but it's not like there was anything I could do about it. I told her to take it as a compliment. Still, I didn't think I'd see her again after the test.
She texted me three days later. I was stunned.
"It's a mistake," I thought. "Ignore it." Then, she texted again after an hour.
"Of course," I thought. "It's because we have so much in common."
My phone buzzed again, again and again. She texted me,
I decided to wait a few minutes to respond. Forty seemed like a good, round number.
I wrote, “Why can't they?” It was really quite hilarious. Or maybe you had to be there.
Then, I really thought about why this girl wanted me so much. Despite my sullen eyes, busy hair, depleted confidence, terrible movie taste and miserable performance, this girl wanted me because I hadn't texted her.
This is not a rare phenomenon. We know ignoring you riles up that inherent reaction, and for whatever reason, we know you can't help it. It's like you're an ice cream addict who just saw some unattended soft serve.
We don't understand this, either. But, we realize it's in our best interest to do it as much as possible if it works.
So, you want to know why the guy you like isn't texting you back? Here are a few reasons. Let's begin with the most current.
1. It's on purpose.
It feels like sacrilege to admit this, but it's true. Certain men aren't texting you out of pure, calculated strategy.
Call us cold. Call us crazy. But, you guys want someone smart to tell you what's up, right? Smart people can read situations and predict behavior based on past behavior. Tell me his silence isn't making you think about him more.
We know you don't need us. We know you can go out on almost any night and find someone better than us. But, we need you to be thinking about us, even when we don't want anything serious.
Years of girls not texting us back has taught us that the most potent aphrodisiac is rejection, or at least the perception of it. Sometimes I even purposely leave my read receipts on.
2. We're just not into talking to you.
This is another cold, harsh reality, but it's very common in the real world. It's something that goes both ways, and it's something that — surprise — men don't always consider themselves scumbags for.
Shit, when I started writing this post, I kind of thought I could come up with a few more. Then, I remembered I promised my editor I wouldn't lie to you.
It's either this reason or the other one. Good luck trying to figure out which one.