I get to work and there's a voicemail waiting for me, from 6:15 p.m. the previous evening.
“Hi, Justin? This is... Sean... and I'm just lying here on the couch... naked... wondering what you're up to tonight. Call me at xxx-xxxx.” Techno something-or-other in the background.
I don't know Sean, and I'm not gay, so I'm trying to figure out whether this is a prank (he sounded quite sincere), a random dial-a-proposition (an unlikely means of getting laid, in my experience), or a wrong number gone horribly awry (he got my name right).
The wrinkle is addressing me by name, which is on my voicemail message. I quick search of Craig's List didn't turn up my work extension (which I've had for 20 months+ now). I don't have time to check the stall walls of all the bathrooms in Vancouver (even limiting myself to just the cruisy ones).
The question is really this: Do I call the number to talk to Sean and try to get the story out of him, at risk of either confirming his dial-a-date methodology, or worse, convincing him that I'm a closet case who just needs a lot of encouragement on my voicemail to live what I've apparently been denying for so long?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
The stories that never get aired out at work...
I didn't call. It's better as an absurdist moment in my life (see the following post) presented for everyone's amusement.
Post a Comment