Quick refresher- Babe was about a week was she not? Babe2 lasted exactly two weeks- Valentines Day to February 28. Sooooo. It’s Monday night, a little after 9pm, and my phone receives two of those “please call me” text messages- I actually think they came in earlier than that but I was surfing at the time. I recognized the number a little, but I didn’t have it saved, so I called it. A young voice answers and I say, “Hi, this is Angel, I’m returning a call-me.” Silence for a second- then: “Um, is Damien there?” is the response. First of all- don’t people teach their kids who to use a phone anymore? If one of my friends called when I still lived at home and was impolite my dad simply hung up the phone. He expected a “Hello Mr. Suchandsuch, it’s Soandso speaking, may I speak to Angel please.” Back then of course I understood it but I didn’t necessarily like it. Is it too much to expect the same? Damien gets an earful from me when he’s phoning a friend to make sure he is in the very least polite. Especially when it’s not the friend’s own phone. Second, I wonder why she’s using my number when Damien’s had his own for more than two years. Damien was supposedly already in bed, but I figured I’d play nice and I called him to the phone. Here’s the conversation from his side: “hello?” brief silence. “Oh, hi Michelle.” Another short silence “Okay.” He hangs up, hands me the phone AND WALKS AWAY! NOW WHAT? Do I dare ask? Do I intrude if he hasn’t volunteered any information? I make a snap decision and call him back. Here’s what followed.
Me: “why’s she calling on my phone?”
Damien: “Oh, she got the number from the girl who’s party I was s’posed to go to on Saturday night.”
Aside: I had to disappoint my darling boy because the party was far away and I was sick in bed.
Me: “Okay. Problem?”
Damien: “No, she says she has a huge crush on me.”
Me (aloud): “Oh boy, are they having parties to get to you now?”
Me (silently): “Good grief- another one! Since when were teenage girls so forward?”
Damien (sporting a sheepish slash lunatic grin): “Heh heh…”
He went off to bed and I watched the season two finale of “Las Vegas” to distract myself from my shock by drooling over Josh Duhamel.
There Is Never An Excuse
One in three is not a statistic - one in three is a crying shame.