I forget a lot of things. 

Where I put my glasses, for example. The name of that place I had a really good burger the other day. Uh…my dignity

But what I don’t forget is an invitation to a beach house with someone I’m interested in. 

That takes priority number one and I will rifle through my twin sister’s closet to find her most flattering bikini. 

Tyler, this guy I dated years ago, invited me to a beach house with him and some friends who I also knew. It was about two hours away from where I lived.

He and I were in a months-long, long-distance flirtation and he not only asked me to go but repeatedly asked me to go. 

Come up Friday for the weekend!” he told me on Monday. “It’s going to be so much fun!”

I was excited. I “borrowed” my twin sister’s bikini and everything. 

But then my super cute text message to him the next day went unanswered. 

Is he having too much fun at the beach house to check messages? I wondered. Did he forget his phone charger? 
It wasn’t like him to not respond. 

But I waited. Nothing.

Wednesday, nothing.

THURSDAY, nothing.

I then began to panic, confused about why he wasn’t following up with his invitation or you know, SENDING ME THE ADDRESS. 

Did he forget that he invited me???
I didn’t know what to do. 

Then Friday….nothing. 


“F THAT GUY!” my roommates exclaimed and we all went out drinking. 

Maybe I should call him, I suggested, but even I knew that was too mortifying a conversation, asking why durrrrrrr I was no longer invited to the super fun party.  
“Don’t text him!” my rooommates instructed. 

I remember I kept looking at my phone, staring at my last text to him, five days earlier. Did it not go through??? (Of course it did.)

I took their advice until beer took over, and then I texted Tyler a very simple and poignant message late Friday night: 


(I used the hyphens and everything, for emphasis. Slow spelling. To let it really sink in.) 

I woke up the next day and saw I had a text from him. 

So he DOES get service!!

I opened it.

“What’s lame?” he wrote. 

That was it.




It was the most infuriating response to getting dicked over, ever. 

I should have added a pronoun. “WHO’S L-A-M-E?” Answer: Tyler. 

I wanted to scream, “YOU’RE LAME! YOU!!! LOOK IN A GOD DAMN MIRROR!!!!”

But I didn’t respond.

Was he serious? Did he think I forgot that he had repeatedly invited me to the beach house? 

(Newsflash: No one forgets an invitation to a beach house.)

A week later, I got answers when I ran into one of our mutual friends.

“You look tan,” I said. 

“Yea, I was at the beach house with everyone,” he said. (I knew that)

“Oh, yea? I was supposed to go. Tyler invited me, but then I never heard from him.”

My friend looked at me like I was crazy. 

Tyler invited you?”


“Well, I don’t know why he did that. His…ex-girlfriend was there and they were pretty cozy.”






I confronted Tyler about it shortly after, who said that he didn’t know his ex-girlfriend was going to be there, and admitted he didn’t know how to tell me about it. 

So he just thought that not following up would just…you know, solve the problem. 

Yea, solve HIS problem. 

Meanwhile, I’m getting sad-drunk checking my phone every five minutes for a Google map.


Lame AND selfish!

So I forgot his phone number.


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