I got three phone calls in rapid succession recently from a number I didn’t recognize. I don’t know about you, but I don’t answer numbers that aren’t already in my address book unless I’ve recently put something up on Craigslist. When I called the number back I hit an obnoxious voicemail of a recorded song instead of identifying phrase telling me whose phone I’d just rung up. (I thought that went out with pagers around the year 2000, but maybe I’m just out of the loop.)

Here’s the text message exchange that followed:

UnIdentified caller: Hey, how are you?
Me: Uhhh, who is this?
UnIdentified caller: This is Samson, we had lunch once.
Me: Oh, I deleted your number. You should do the same thing with mine!

Here’s the deal, I went on a lunch date with Samson following a semi-weird message exchange online about a month ago. Ten minutes into lunch I was wondering if I could pretend my non-existent dog had been hit by a car, or that friend was in the midst of a Chris Brown moment, or maybe my already dead grandmother had just suffered a stroke–anything to get the fuck out of this restaurant without causing a scene.

What could make me, an avid people watcher, so desperate to book it out of there? It was the debate we got into within ten minutes of meeting. This wasn’t just any debate, mind you. He decided to unleash his inner eco-fag and lectured (a very appropriate choice of words in this case) me on how ‘we’ should “force big business to be more environmentally friendly.” While that is a cute idea in the land of lollipops and holiday-affiliated semi-deities that give children presents, it’s not realistic. The fact is that at present time being ecologically sound is not economically wise; it’s too expensive, time consuming, and a long list of other things meaning no big name business making large financial contributions to political cantidates has to think about. This debate got increasingly heated as he became frustrated with the fact that he was incapable of defending his point of view. If there’s one thing I get a kick out of, it’s making people see flaws in whatever point of view they just tried to desperately to cram down my throat without being able to back it up.

I’d like to mention the fact that this guy was one of those “professional student” types. You know, living in his parents basement and changing from one major to another at the drop of a hat… interested only in appearing well-educated and worldly based off what he’d picked up from several 200-level philosophy courses. People like this only look smart when speaking to someone who doesn’t know anything about the topic, or can’t hold their own in a debate. I do not fall into either of those categories, and so once the check was paid I made haste with the exit.

After that I ignored his calls, texts, and other attempts to contact me. If you aren’t feeling it after the first time you meet, there’s no reason to bother speaking to that person again. I thought after weeks without a response he’d get it. What is it about text messaging that makes people feel empowered enough to try to start an argument when it’s best to just let it be, anyway?

UnIdentified caller: Do you have anything to say for yourself?
Me: Maybe you missed the implication in my last text: I’m not interested!
UnIdentified caller: Well I’m glad you finally had the balls to tell me instead of avoiding me!
Me: Lulz!
UnIdentified caller: For the record I think you’re a grade-a bitch. Go fuck yourself, forever, have a nice night.
Me: If you could take the hint instead of crying about it, that would be great. Have fun in your mom’s basement lamenting about girls that don’t feel they should have to justify not being interested in you.

This was followed with a flurry of texts I didn’t reply to, some highlights include the fact that I am an “ice queen” who will “someday be humbled” and that I should “grow some balls.” Listen guys, let me tell you something: one unpleasant lunch date you decided we should go Dutch on (reason #1 we will never be going out again) followed by me not responding to any of your attempts to contact me is a pretty clear statement that I don’t want to talk to you. Beyond that I am a girl, I do not have balls nor would I like a pair of my own. And frankly after that, why would you want for me to make you look bad a second time?

I thought the “fuck you, forever” was a nice touch, especially considering it was followed by “have a nice night.” Sometimes my life is just a live feed of passiveaggressivenotes.com. Looks like Samson will either need to start meeting less intelligent girls, or ones with a Captain Planet fetish.