This affair began during the second quarter of game two of the finals. During the commercial breaks of the game I was texting back-and-forth with a friend about the happening of the game thus-far. A germane tidbit about said individual entails his taking an abnormal psychology course. He seemed to feel one simple course, a course which has a historical track record of enabling students to over-analyze and more importantly over-apply the nature of the subject, to qualify him to diagnose me. This course was predictably, abnormal psychology. As a former psych-major: I'd been there, yet hadn't done that. Although I will admit the Wikipedia link to Schizotypal personality disorder did make me laugh a little:
Schizotypal personality disorder is a personality disorder characterized by a need for social isolation, anxiety in social situations, odd behavior and thinking, and often unconventional beliefs. People with this disorder feel extreme discomfort with maintaining close relationships with people, and therefore they often do not. People who have this disorder may display peculiar manners of talking and dressing and often have difficulty in forming relationships. In some cases, they may react oddly in conversations, not respond, or talk to themselves. They frequently misinterpret situations as being strange or having unusual meaning for them; paranormal and superstitious beliefs are not uncommon.
You can be assured, this segue was intended. Anyhow, we were texting about Finals play when I randomly received a text from an unknown individual who seemed to be very well-informed of the inner-workings of the MPOTF system who had a disdain for Manu Ginobili and Chris Bosh. It's relevant that this happened mere seconds after I had asked the aforementioned guy if his girlfriend had any thoughts about the game at hand. Timing.
At this point I suspected the random text to have originated from a third party in a new Floridian I'd recently encountered. After a few messages the exchange suddenly came to a halt.This person texts me a paragraph assuming I knew who they were? The gall! My mind started racing. Who could this be?
Why hadn't I asked them initially? Unfortunately, I knew the answer to this query. I don't save numbers in my phone because I memorize all of them - or pretend I do anyway. I used to do this accidentally before the cell phone craze began. Afterward, I concluded my system of numerical memorization was more efficient than having to save names. I could be anywhere and everywhere, without a phone and utilize all the necessary numbers I needed. Slick. 203-967-3757. Knowing all of my friend's old house numbers in Connecticut is unfortunately not as useful as I had wished. And that's my old house number so feel free to call it.The next day I texted the aforementioned friend whose girlfriend I suspected of texting me several times. He had successfully pranked me in the past - there was no way I was going to let it happen again.
"Clever girl..." I texted him. This is a quote from "Jurassic Park's Muldoon" upon realizing he had been stalked and cornered by several "Deinonychi."
"Who? What" He responded. Alright - he wants to play it this way, huh? I thought to myself. More than one of us can play dumb.
I texted the mystery number from last night under the clever guise of being uninformed of the situation at hand.
"Are you pleased with Bosh's performance?" "*Were you?"
"I blacked out and fell asleep right after texting you. But unless he died I was NOT pleased."
My conclusion was that the both of them had definately been in touch. This response was not only suspect but an easy cop out - and a slap in the face to my intelligence. They both clearly knew I was onto them. I immediately arose from my seated position and screamed "fuck."
Oddly enough though, negative feedback seems to encourage me. The next phase of my plan was immediately mentally laid out. I would use the new Floridian outsider to pretend to miss-text the mystery texter. Fucking slick.
Luckily for me, the Floridian was nice enough to agree to participate. The motion of my plan had began.
Later I was texted with a result.
I won't name names, but suffice to say the result was "Z."
I instantaneously reviewed all of the prior information about the entire situation. I was pretty damn wrong. The result wasn't my friend's girlfriend but guy a I knew, who I knew had a very strong bias against Manu Ginobili.
I had essentially made up this entire situation, been fueled by manufactured drama I'd created, and cornered myself into receiving another...
Reality Check.
Schizotypal personality disorder is a personality disorder characterized by a need for social isolation, anxiety in social situations, odd behavior and thinking, and often unconventional beliefs. People with this disorder feel extreme discomfort with maintaining close relationships with people, and therefore they often do not. People who have this disorder may display peculiar manners of talking and dressing and often have difficulty in forming relationships. In some cases, they may react oddly in conversations, not respond, or talk to themselves. They frequently misinterpret situations as being strange or having unusual meaning for them; paranormal and superstitious beliefs are not uncommon.
You can be assured, this segue was intended. Anyhow, we were texting about Finals play when I randomly received a text from an unknown individual who seemed to be very well-informed of the inner-workings of the MPOTF system who had a disdain for Manu Ginobili and Chris Bosh. It's relevant that this happened mere seconds after I had asked the aforementioned guy if his girlfriend had any thoughts about the game at hand. Timing.
At this point I suspected the random text to have originated from a third party in a new Floridian I'd recently encountered. After a few messages the exchange suddenly came to a halt.This person texts me a paragraph assuming I knew who they were? The gall! My mind started racing. Who could this be?
Why hadn't I asked them initially? Unfortunately, I knew the answer to this query. I don't save numbers in my phone because I memorize all of them - or pretend I do anyway. I used to do this accidentally before the cell phone craze began. Afterward, I concluded my system of numerical memorization was more efficient than having to save names. I could be anywhere and everywhere, without a phone and utilize all the necessary numbers I needed. Slick. 203-967-3757. Knowing all of my friend's old house numbers in Connecticut is unfortunately not as useful as I had wished. And that's my old house number so feel free to call it.The next day I texted the aforementioned friend whose girlfriend I suspected of texting me several times. He had successfully pranked me in the past - there was no way I was going to let it happen again.
"Clever girl..." I texted him. This is a quote from "Jurassic Park's Muldoon" upon realizing he had been stalked and cornered by several "Deinonychi."
"Who? What" He responded. Alright - he wants to play it this way, huh? I thought to myself. More than one of us can play dumb.
I texted the mystery number from last night under the clever guise of being uninformed of the situation at hand.
"Are you pleased with Bosh's performance?" "*Were you?"
"I blacked out and fell asleep right after texting you. But unless he died I was NOT pleased."
My conclusion was that the both of them had definately been in touch. This response was not only suspect but an easy cop out - and a slap in the face to my intelligence. They both clearly knew I was onto them. I immediately arose from my seated position and screamed "fuck."
Oddly enough though, negative feedback seems to encourage me. The next phase of my plan was immediately mentally laid out. I would use the new Floridian outsider to pretend to miss-text the mystery texter. Fucking slick.
Luckily for me, the Floridian was nice enough to agree to participate. The motion of my plan had began.
Later I was texted with a result.
I won't name names, but suffice to say the result was "Z."
I instantaneously reviewed all of the prior information about the entire situation. I was pretty damn wrong. The result wasn't my friend's girlfriend but guy a I knew, who I knew had a very strong bias against Manu Ginobili.
I had essentially made up this entire situation, been fueled by manufactured drama I'd created, and cornered myself into receiving another...
Reality Check.
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