I have a confession: I text a lot. Not like a lot for a normal person, a lot for a high school girl with 2 pairs of hands. According to the stats on my phone, I’ve sent and received a combined 9900 over the last month and half. That’s an average of over 215 texts per day, or about 1 every 5 waking minutes. It’s entirely possible that I have some kind of affliction, but I honestly just don’t like talking on the phone. It makes me feel uncomfortable and weird, which is one thing it has in common with sex…and just generally being me.
The problem with texting, of course, is that it’s not a real dialogue, and there’s always the chance that you will text the wrong person. That can be a brief lapse in thinking (one time I was texting with one my friends about how much I wanted to bang this girl I was seeing. At one point, I distractedly sent one of the more incriminating messages to the girl herself instead of my friend. I did not ever sleep with that girl. As if I needed technological assistance to fail at getting laid.), or due to some bad information (like when you meet that cute Asian girl at the bar and text her the next day, but it turns out that she gave you her 7-year-old niece’s number).
I’m always terrified that I’ll be a part of the latter. Except when I’m on the receiving end. Then it’s hilarious…like the exchange I was a part of last night. Around 10, I got a message from a person I’m going to call “HC” (you’ll see why shortly), which I think may have permanently scarred me:
HC (9:57pm): Any gangbangs tonight?
[My first thought: one of my friends is fucking with me.]
HC (10:15pm): ?
Dan (10:16pm): I don’t know who this is.
HC (10:20pm): A/S/L?
[Again I think a friend is fucking with me.]
HC (10:30pm): I thought this was Dang
Dan (10:52pm): Dang?
HC (11:08pm): Dang the guy who runs the swing club in Park Slope? Is this not you?
Dan (11:08pm): No
HC (11:09pm): Its H.C. Here
HC (11:09pm): Horsecock3000
[Aaaaaaand there we are.]
HC (11:09pm): My member name
Just…wow. There’s a little but more, but in light of all that, do you really need anything more? Well, I do, because I have a whole slew of questions:
1. Do swing clubs really exist?
2. Are they usually run by Asians?
3. Is Dang an Asian name?
4. Is text message really the preferred means of contacting such clubs?
5. Are member names involved? Isn’t easier to have one central password than X number of individual names? What system do they use to keep track of member names? Is there a database? Do they use Twitter? They should really use Twitter. I feel like that solves #4 as well.
I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS. The bottom line is, dude did not find himself a gang bang by barking up that tree. Or maybe he did. That’s really my business and not yours, you nosy asshole.
Incidentally, if you’re hosting a gang bang and looking to invite a dude who may or may not have a horsecock, I have a number for you. You can find me on Twitter.