Thursday, October 17, 2013

The Pocket Dial

Today, I got pocket-dialed by a guy I used to date - a guy I'm not on speaking terms with. Awkward.  Anyway, it reminded me of a truly awful pocket dial (or “butt dial” if you like that term better) experience I had with my first boyfriend in New York.  His name was John.  (Real name. There are no innocents here to protect.)  He was a crab fisherman in Alaska (yes, just like the Deadliest Catch guys).  He was strong, gorgeous, bold, passionate, just rough enough (ladies, you know what I mean), he could fix things and he drove a cherry red 1957 Chevy that he'd lovingly restored himself.  He was like no other guy I’d ever dated.  He was amazing.  He also cheated on me for 2 years with his baby’s mama. 

How’d I find out?  A pocket dial.  He didn't invite me to his family's Easter dinner (I know, I know, should've been my first clue), which he knew had hurt my feelings so he called me after the dinner to make nice.  He said he was on his way to Brooklyn to drop his daughter back off with her mom.  We talked, made plans to meet the next day, he promised to make it up to me, etc.  Then he told me he loved me and hung up.  Except that his phone didn't actually hang up.  Immediately after that, I heard a woman’s voice – the baby mama (!) - giggling. She said, “You’re so bad” and he said, “I know. Come here”.  I called out his name into the phone, but he couldn't hear me, so I stopped and listened and then I heard the sounds of kissing and making out.  My blood froze.  I called his name again – no answer.  Then she started talking to him about the food at dinner (so there was why I hadn't been invited), the traffic (so she was in his car, not his kid), he told her how hot she looked “in that dress”,  more kissing sounds and then they started talking about what they were going to do to each other once they got back to her place and how glad they were that his mom was keeping the baby overnight...   Yeah.  That’s when I hung up.  Apparently, my guardian angels and his cheap, broken flip phone conspired to rescued me that day by exposing my "loving boyfriend" for who he really was.

So that’s my pocket-dial horror story.  What’s yours?  
Ever catch anyone up to no good thanks to a pocket/butt-dial
Or have you personally been caught red-handed that way?  
Have you had an awkward pocket dial to/from an ex?

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