Listen, it doesn’t take more than a moment of not paying attention to make an epic mistake that will make you want to climb into a pothole and hide out until the end of time.
I know I can’t be the only one who has been in a texting frenzy, thought I made a really valid point, and checked a few moments later to see I sent my genius text to the wrong person.
So, for shits and giggles, and hopefully to make you feel better about something stupid you have done, let me tell you a little story…
I met a wonderful man a few weeks ago and we hit it off in all the ways, and have been digging each other pretty hard. Our time together has been magical and there have been lots of feelings shared. Also, we have experienced fantastic naughty time between the sheets as well as between our phones.
I’m sure you see where this is going but really, you have no idea.
The other night as our messages were getting a bit warmed up as we were expressing how we couldn’t wait to see each other and discuss the events we’d like to occur after our lovely dinner while we were in my bedroom and I’d be wearing something extremely uncomfortable, a text from my aunt came in asking if I was still planning on taking the kids to meet her and my uncle at church before going to an early dinner.
Maybe it was the quick shift in gears that left me confused. One minute I’m thinking about getting off, the next I’m thinking about how I can try and get out of going to church — it’s really not for me (obviously, I’m probably going to hell anyway), but I do it to make my aunt happy and it’s a gateway to a nice dinner out with family.
My cheeks were flushed and I was running late to get my kids from their dad’s house and there I was, thinking about lying to a family member I love while my loins are throbbing (did I mention I’m probably going to hell?) and I wanted to get back to my lover because I didn’t want to lose the moment. Clearly, as a woman who had just ended a four-month dry spell, the sexting was way more important than getting back to my lovely aunt who used to hold and rock me when I was a baby.
I was slipping on my sneakers and thought I’d send a sexy voice text to my new lover. You know, to save time before I got my kids and took them for ice cream. (Oh, the exciting life of a divorced mom, right?)
I put the phone up to my lips whispering even though I was home alone because the words coming out of my mouth about the things I wanted to do involving his penis and my lips were so explosive I could barely handle myself.
I was so proud. I mean, really I could write penthouse letters and I should probably pursue that, I thought as I slung my hair over my shoulder and watched myself apply lipstick in the mirror. I felt so full of life and horniness it was as if I were 16 again.
I wanted to review the text one more time before I got into kid-mode so I could admire my creative suggestion for Cadbury Creme egg filling.
I clicked on his name and the text was nowhere to be found, which at first pissed me off because it was fucking brilliant and I wasn’t sure if I could emulate it again. I figured there was just something off with my phone and it didn’t record or send or something.
But as I sat in my car, I realized what that “something off” might be and a wave of fear came over me and slapped any sexual feelings I’d had (ever, in my entire life) straight outta me.
In that moment, I knew.
My aunt who was so looking forward to going to church with me and my blessed children on Easter Sunday just got word that her lovely, innocent niece likes to give blow jobs with high-fructose corn syrup drizzled on top. Oh and yeah, I also like hairless balls.
OH MY FUCKING GOD YOU CAN’T UNFUCK THAT SITUATION. I’d rather shit my pants in public than have to deal with this.
Should I tell her it wasn’t from me? Maybe she won’t know the difference. Maybe I can tell her I was shopping and someone stole my phone but lucky me, I got it back. I could say I was drinking. I could tell her my teenage son was playing a very late April fool’s joke on her. LOL?
My palms were sweating, I wanted to cry, and I wondered if I’d ever be able to give another blow job again after this disastrous turn of events. The afternoon was going so well, too. This is what I get for trying to be everything to everyone all the damn time.
The only thing I could do in that moment was drive while I tried to gather my thoughts. I didn’t want to try to correct this with my kids around but I deserved to be punished in that way because I likely gave my aunt a heart attack. That’s what I get for trying to transition from hot, sexy dirty-talker, to sweet niece, to mother, in under 15 minutes.
I heard my phone ding a few times while I was driving and each time I heard it, I felt as if I was being stabbed with a knife. I didn’t know what lay ahead but I tried to look on the bright side of things: Maybe this was a blessing in disguise and my aunt would never ask me to go to church with her again and I could spend the extra time with chocolate eggs filled with creme and hairless balls.
I got my kids home and went into the bathroom with my phone: it was time to face the wrath. My aunt had messaged me and so had my lover wondering if I was okay and thinking perhaps his messages were a bit too naughty and that’s why I’d gone silent for the past half hour.
I opened his text first and tried to send a replica of my steamy thoughts over even though they weren’t as hot — I’d obviously lost the vibe a bit but wanted to focus on a positive thing happening in my life at the moment (have I mentioned I’d recently gone 4 months without sex?) while my kids were fighting over the last piece of chocolate cake in the kitchen. We skipped ice cream because I was just too mortified to be in public.
Then, I knew I couldn’t avoid it any longer and I wanted to get it taken care of so I opened the text from my aunt:
Oh honey, I hate to be the one to tell you this but I don’t think that was meant for me. I’m so glad you are enjoying yourself and exploring. Your uncle and I had fun with a piece of Thanksgiving pie way back when and I wish I would have told him to make sure he shaved his balls first, too! I’m sure that makes it more pleasurable. I”ll see you at church.
My response: Yes, I’ll be there.
Really, what else could I say?
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