I don't know where you honed this skill, but it blows my mind how you are able to accurately pinpoint the exact moment that I don't want to hear from you because that moment is precisely the moment that I DO hear from you. My attention will turn to the cute boy I met over the weekend. I'll wonder when I'll get to see him again and--boom!--my phone will ring. Is it him??
Nope-a-lope. IT'S YOU. We haven't communicated in four blissful months, but sure enough, there's your number popping up. You're texting to notify me that my favorite movie is playing a limited run at the Ritz. Thanks, but when did you start working for Moviefone?
Whatever. This much is clear: You were thinking of me. Now, I'm thinking of you and I'm in a battle of wills. Should I write back? Should I ignore it? Do I miss you? Maybe? How did I go from being smack dab in the middle of a hohum Tuesday to starring in my own suspense thriller mini-movie that no one else would want to watch?
I know you can't afford a crystal ball because you could barely afford a cab ride while we dated, so this little text twist has me in a flutter. As soon as you've been banished from my mind, you weasel your way back in. Well played, my dear, well played.