epsiode 12

Text Pest

I was visiting my mother in Devon, not just because I was finding new dating in London exhausting (in all fairness I was hardly being run off my feet by men), but because I wanted some TLC from my mummy. I was also looking forward to the tranquility North Devon often provided me with. So off I set, ready for a few weeks of delicious peace and quiet.
Question one: who invented texting?
Question two: where do they live?
It seemed I was back to the old debate that I'd been having about technology since 'What's your point caller.' In theory it should make relationships easier but in reality does it? In my reality, does it hell.
I used to be fine about texting. I even quite liked it to a point. If I wanted to ask my ex a quick question it made sense. If I was running late, it was a great way of conveying this, if I wanted to tell more than one person something at the same time then, fabulous texting was available to me. And if I wanted a conversation I would dial. Simple. Now, however, the thought of texting anyone fills me with dread and when my phone beeps to announce a new message I almost hurl it out of the window.
Settled in the peaceful Devon countryside, my phone started beeping. And beeping. And beeping. Over the next few days I was literally bombarded.
Before it sounds as if I was incredibly popular, nearly all the beeps announced one person. A man to be exact. A man I'd dated. A man I had no intention of dating again.
The first was innocuous enough. It thanked me for the evening we'd spent together and being polite I replied, thanking him for dinner. The next wished me a nice time in Devon, (I had told him I was going) and again I replied with thanks. It was all fine so far.
Then I got a message telling me I had a great arse (a sentiment he had previously expressed). I found that slightly disturbing so I didn't reply to that. Before I went to bed that night, I got another, which just asked about my general well-being. I replied that I was going to sleep. He then asked if I was wearing pyjamas. I didn't reply. Get the pattern?
The following day I got a text:
If someone pulled you into the bath while you were dressed would you laugh or be annoyed?
Stupidly, I replied saying that it would depend on what I was wearing.
What would you wear for such an event?
I didn't reply. On and on this went. I would be walking the dog, or having lunch with my mum, or I'd just come out of the swimming pool and immediately jump as my phone beeped. The only reason I didn't throw it away was that I needed it for work, but you know that phone started to feel almost as if it had become my live-in stalker.
Sometimes I would go a whole day without hearing from him and just as I had been lulled into a false sense of security; beep, beep, beep…
Not once did he ask to see me again. If he had done I could have been honest and replied that I'd emigrated. Instead he sent me pointless text after pointless text and none of them seemed to offer me any opportunity to ask him to stop. I wondered if I should just say stop but that seemed rude. I was utterly baffled as to how to handle the situation so I consulted my friends. After much debate, the suggestions were as follows:
1. Say that this is your new phone you don't know anyone called Faith, (as someone else pointed out that I was easy to get hold of via email so if I did this, then I might get an email pest although debatably that could be preferable).
2. Say you're really ill (that was just plain wrong).
3. Get a man to call him and scare him, (what am I the Mafia?)
4. My mother thought he sounded sweet, and I should give him another chance, (how desperate is she to marry me off?)
None of the options felt right but I decided that if I ignored him, no matter how wrong that felt, then maybe he would get the hint and go away.
Every text, he asked about my health/happiness/attire. I decided that he didn't want to see me, he just wanted to text me, and then I wondered just how common these text pests actually were.
'Why does TP keep texting me?' I wailed to my girlfriend.
'I think he thinks you're his girlfriend now,' she helpfully replied. 'A couple more months of this and he'll be telling people you're engaged.'
N.B. Get new friends.
As ignoring him made me feel increasingly uncomfortable I finally told him I was out of town for the foreseeable future, (which wasn't as much of a fib as you might think) but even that didn't work. Beep, beep, bloody beep.
In the end I stopped replying for good. I feel really bad, but I really didn't know what else to do.
It seemed however, that I was in the minority when it came to my newly held anti-text stance. The general consensus was that texting can be sexy and amusing and whilst you might have only one conversation a day you feel that you're constantly in touch when you're texting. Maybe, because that's exactly the problem I have. He is constantly in touch and I have no idea why. It's not sexy, not funny, he doesn't seem to expect a reply and to add insult to injury it's filling up my inbox.
So, my text pest is still going strong, and until I give him the number of one of the many people who seem to love getting texts, I'm afraid I'm stuck with him.

Next Week: Zoo dating