Sexting is a term that came into use a couple of years ago, but was made really famous this year (enough so that my parents know what it is), by a couple of celebrity “incidents.” Hmm hmm hmm, Brett Favre, Tiger Woods, Kayne West, the list goes on. I myself had never received a graphic picture sext until a few months ago. I was sitting in the reception area of an office building, feeling a little jittery as I was waiting to go into a job interview, when my phone started vibrating in my pocket. I thought for sure it must be a “good luck, go get ‘em tiger!” type text from a friend or family member. Boy was I dead wrong. I flipped open my phone (that’s right, I still have a flip phone, but that’s a discussion for another time), when I saw a woman (or her ass rather), dressed in lingerie, taking a self-photo in the mirror. A second later I hear my name called “We’re ready for you, please come this way.” I was so startled and thrown off my game, I jumped a little and immediately shoved my phone in my bag.
The entire interview the sext was running through my head, how could it not? I couldn’t help it! Who was she? Why was she sexting me? It was hilarious and unnerving at the same time. Once I left, I looked again at this scantily clad, not so classy looking broad, and scrolled down to find a message which said, “Hi, I’ll be at the Honeyspot Motel room 322, Friday 2 pm to late, hope you can cum. Text me if you want to have sum fun, Jenna.” No shame at all! I wrote it off as a one-time wrong number, after clearly sharing it with some friends. But sure enough, like clockwork, every Friday I received one of Jenna’s messages, usually with a different motel, always with the same picture (talk about an utter lack of creativity). I initially didn’t want to engage with this stranger, but after about a month of this, I thought enough’s enough and I simply wrote her back, “Wrong number, please don’t sext me again.”
No such luck! I still continued to receive the sexts, sometimes a few times a week. It was no longer funny or cute, now it was just annoying. On one such occasion, I was with a few friends when I received one. They couldn’t believe it. “We have to call her!” the guys shouted in unison. I agreed, so long as it wasn’t from my phone. She demanded for my friend to send both a picture of his, you know, junk, as well as a face shot. He obliged, pulling an image of the former off the internet, and an image of David Bowie for the latter (Why Bowie? Why not Bowie?). She texted him back almost immediately with a time and a rate, clearly she's unfamiliar with the Musician/Actor/Record Producer, that or she thought he was the real thing. He never went through with it (as far as I know), but it did give the group a hearty laugh. What I want to know is, how did a prostitute get my phone number? Talk about having a privacy complaint! So far, I’m the only person I know who’s gotten a wrong number sext. Have you?
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