I deleted numbers out of my phone! One of modern life's most poetic and purposeful, though simplistic, acts. The following is my paean to this evening's act of daring: my drawing (or rather, erasing) of certain people's lines in my sand... phone.
I rarely delete numbers. Ok, a few times out of rage, but I honestly can count those on one hand, and still have fingers left over. The majority of my scant deletions actually stem from sheer undiluted disinterest. I know we will never see one another again, you served a purpose in my life at one point in time and I in yours, and that time has passed. The only way we will meet again is if we randomly move into the same family ward in 30 years. No, strike that-in the past, the quickest way to come off my phone is if your name is just one letter in the alphabet ahead of a person whose number I ACTUALLY dial frequently. YOU, Jess-B-Not-Jess-Clayton, must be booted out so I can get to my bestie faster. Sorry.
Ahem. Good-bye former flames. I remember the good times, and hopefully learned from the bad. Hope you and your wives and kids, or you and your Master's degrees, are doing well :)
Good-bye old work contacts. None of us work at the bakery any more, let's be honest: that was kind of a he**hole. We've made it through and we're on to bigger and better things! Viann, you were super cool. Go become a doctor now.
Not even sure who that person was/is, that was back in the day when I didn't enter people's last names in my phone... oh the follies of youth.
And there you have it. A clean break with the past. All is right in the world. Feeling great.
And do you know what else feels great? Let me tell you a story. During finals last semester I received a voicemail from an unknown number. The voice was male, roughly my age. He greeted me by name and then proceeded (rather nervously) to tell me that he had had a great time with me and was wondering if he could take me out for hot chocolate or... dinner or something... soon. Mind you, I hadn't a CLUE who this man (he identified himself as Nick at some point in the VM) was; his number most certainly did not occupy one of the coveted semi-permanent slots in the LC Address Book. Nevertheless, I was intrigued. I listened to the message again, giggling at his very clear smitten-ness with this "Lindsey"--my alter ego?-- and then I heard it: something about taking me to dinner at a restaurant in Provo. And in a second, it clicked. NICK. I had climbed Y mountain with him during homecoming at BYU in 2008. He was a stranger, a friend of a friend, who just happened to be in the Santa B parking lot when Jess Clayton and I were setting out on a girl date to the Y, which we were all too happy to turn into a boy date. The evening was very memorable (but that's a story for a more private diary...). And apparently I had given him my number. And four years later, he still had it in his phone, and in his nervousness at calling and getting a second date with some other charming Lindsey, he had dialed me.
|Young and innocent and on top of the world!|
Aka Y Mountain.