I hope you don’t mind if I call you Dan – your first text was “hey this is dan”, so I’m guessing that’s your name. And I’m sorry I didn’t respond right away, but I just kind of assumed you’d somehow magically realize it was a wrong number. I was wrong.
Your second message took me by surprise. As a general rule, I don’t welcome unsolicited photographs of strange men’s body parts, but I wasn’t offended at all by yours. That’s probably because the body part in question was your hand, it was next to a package of felt-tip pens, and the accompanying text was “these are the biggest sharpies they have. will they work or u want bigger?”. Sure, someone with a junior-high mentality could interpret “or u want bigger?” as some sort of crude innuendo, but I don’t think you meant it that way.
I’m not sure why I responded the way I did. I’m sorry. I just wrote the first thing that came to mind. “I don’t know anyone named Dan” was a lie, and a pretty transparent one at that. Of course I know people named Dan. Dan is a very common name. But all the Dans I know are either distant acquaintances or friends I’ve drifted away from over the years; I can’t think of a single Dan that I’m on Sharpie-buying terms with. To be honest, I’m not sure I’m on unconditional Sharpie-buying terms with anyone. There are people who’d buy me Sharpies if they happened to be going to the store anyway, but I can’t think of anyone I could call at 3am to run out and buy me Sharpies immediately, no questions asked. They’d all ask questions, Dan. Questions like “Do you know what time it is?” or “Can’t it wait until morning?” or “Did you say Sharpies?”. What’s wrong with me, Dan? Why do I fail to inspire that kind of loyalty and trust? Is it because my text messages are filled with lies and half-truths?
Speaking of which, you’ve probably figured out by now that “and I don’t need any Sharpies” wasn’t entirely true. Of course I need Sharpies, Dan. Everyone needs Sharpies. But I currently have more than enough Sharpies to get me through the next several months. It wasn’t a lie, really, as much as an oversimplification – but I admit it was misleading, and for that, I apologize.
About the “LOL”: I wasn’t laughing at you; I was laughing with you, or at the very least inviting you to laugh with me. I would never laugh at you, Dan. You seem like a genuinely nice guy, going out and buying Sharpies for someone, even willing try a different store if the Sharpies at the first store are unsuitable. And you were thoughtful enough to put some effort into composing the photo: most people would have taken a picture of the Sharpies by themselves, but you incorporated your hand into the scene to provide a sense of scale. Well done, Dan.
I feel like I know so much about you, just from that picture. You’re right-handed, which is something we have in common. The four fingers in the photo are pretty unremarkable, honestly, but I have to wonder why your thumb isn’t visible. Is your left thumb missing or somehow disfigured? There’s no shame in that. You should never be embarrassed by your thumb, Dan, unless of course you have a horribly offensive thumb tattoo. But I’m sure you wouldn’t have something like that.
Or would you? I mean, what exactly were you going to do with those Sharpies, anyway? I’d assumed it was for an art project, or to label food going into the office fridge, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe you belong to some awful hate group, and you were buying Sharpies to make signs for a rally. It all makes sense now – you have some vile hate-filled slogan tattooed on your thumb, don’t you? That’s disgusting.
You should be ashamed of yourself, Dan. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know you at all.