It’s one thing to stay home on a Friday night preparing for work on Saturday morning. It’s another thing to do that and receive SMSs from friends and the vaguely acquainted.
I call it the drunken reflex text message, hereinafter known as DRTM.
Common on weekends, beginning Friday nights at 11pm or so. The first couple are usually lucid-sounding.
Lychee martinees.[sic] Woo hoo! or the like.
As the night wears on, there’ll be many like this:
Oh shit, I had too much to drink
And on occasion,
Hapening![sic] I’m dancing on stage! (Serious! You see lotsa people dancing away at clubs with phone in hand and texting in sync).
If I do take the trouble of replying (most times, a concerned are you ok?), most times I won’t get a response beyond a drunken Hee Hee or a smiley.
Some Friday nights, I get a pearler like PLayg gAmeS. GoNE. Bt nT fLaShINg yEt.
I’m not knocking DRTM. I think I’m easily afflicted too, just that I don’t remember. I doubt anyone would remember unless they checked the ‘Sent’ folder of their phones, get a bit embarrassed at who they’ve been DRTMing (and possibly even more embarrassed when someone blogs about it). It is likely many DRTMers DRTM the wrong person, or the person at the top of their phone books. One acquaintance comes to mind. Poor sod called Aaron who’s at the top of everyone’s phone book, except those whose friends’ names include numbers at the front (you never know).
Aaron not only receives DRTMs. He gets odd messages which are meaningless out of context. People accidentally send messages to him meant for someone else. If you’re Aaron’s friend, you’d most definitely have sent him SMSs by mistake. He once received a message from me that read Be late. 10 min. Shitting downstairs. Despite his getting these messages often, he was amused enough to respond and ask why I’d tell him such a thing, especially since there are no toilets downstairs where he lives.
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