Thursday, April 24, 2008

D-Day

"do you remember our first kiss/it wasn't long enough/all of our conversations/all of your sweet pages/never long enough..."--Beyonce Knowles

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So what crime I gotta committ [sic] to see you ma? April 1, 2007

U have been on my damn mind ALL DAY!! Check ur myspace when u get a chance. Left u something interesting. May 10, 2007

good morning beautiful. time to take over the world. call me when u can. May 29, 2007

So r we still seein each other 2day??? August 4, 2007

Oh yeah and u are so beautiful thought i'd say that August 11, 2007

up at 7 n in the morning thinkin of ashleigh December 9, 2007

Ashleigh when i first met you you almost gave me a cardiac arrest... Jan 1, 2008

Happy new year ms ashleigh if u remember me at all... January 1, 2008

claro que si te voy a llamar la otra semana. y tu como has estado todo bien? te extrano. February 10, 2008

I miss you. March 24, 2008

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This, ladies, is my version of crack cocaine. Yes, I've admitted it before and I'll admit it again...I am a complete sucker for a sweet/sexy text message. I'd rather have a sweet text than a stiff drink. It's that deep. It doesn't take much, and I might not even like the guy very much, but I love a text message. As you can see, I hold onto them for dear life. They make me smile on bad days. I know I'm not alone. But today, I'm declaring something's got to give. These things may actually be detrimental to our mental health over time, keeping us tied to something that's not worth being tied to. And so today is D-Day...Day of Deletion.

Last year, when the SB situation imploded, I immediately rid myself of pictures, old texts, voicemails, everything. It was therapeutic and I've never once since then wished I had any of those things back. But it's a little scary to wipe out your whole dating history in one swoop from your phone, never to get it back. It's not a big deal to shake off the ones from homeboys who wish they were more. I just happen to be a girl that loves men and enjoys game, so I collect it....it's kind of my commemorative sport. I get a kick out of the things men will say to try to get some, or being fair, to try to be with you.

But some texts aren't really game, they're just a "thinking of you" or special for some other reason. And the hardest part of what I'm doing today is ridding myself of the texts from Mr. Magic (yes, we've moved onto a Roberta Flack reference; formerly referred to on this site as Mr. Drastically Different)--the one guy from the past year that I actually liked, the one that rocked my world by (gasp) making me catch feelings (!!)...and currently the only guy I've given it up to since 2005. Mr. Magic is the first big OMG I've had since '03, when I last locked it down. He's grounded, cool, sexy and talented--all the top prereqs. Brakes: he's never in town and he never calls when he isn't. No likey. And so even though he managed to add an unwanted extra notch to my closely monitored bedpost to no avail (yes, I have a limit before marriage), he's officially got to get out of my brain. So, I'm ridding myself of the first text from the first day we met (that, by the time I started to like him, I managed to rescue from automatic deletion by just a few hours), the first one he sent that made me smile, and the only one that reminds me of the first time we kissed; I'm erasing the one that reminds me of the date of the first time we had sex. Hard as it is to believe, at my age I've never done anything like this before; I guess I've never had to. It's harder than I thought.

What we hang onto as women isn't the actual texts, it's the thought behind it. Chris Rock says women need food, water, and compliments and he's so right. I like to know that on New Years' Day, so-and-so was thinking about the day we met the previous year, however far apart we were, however long it had been since we spoke. I like to know that on December 9th, the guy I was then dating woke up at 7 and couldn't go back to sleep because he had me on his mind. It puts an extra dent in my dimple to remember how inspired I was the morning of May 29th when a super successful guy with whom I'd had a first date the night before thought enough of me personally and professionally to hit me up and get my day started before getting out into the world. There are texts from my ex that I'm still friendly with who often makes me smile, and a text from my sexy-mexi homeboy, the only person on Earth with whom I always speak Spanish.

But today, they've all got to go. Especially Mr. Magic. What am I hanging onto year-old texts for?

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