Pretty much everyone has, at one point in their life, received a text message that is so befuddling and so nonsensical, all they could do was stare. And reread. And stare again. In my case, the staring was an ill-fated attempt to determine whether or not I had been complimented or insulted, which my sources tell me are two very different things. Some even used the word "opposite." This is my story. For any of the following to make sense we need to start off with a little backstory, both of the text and the guy who sent it.
The text: I received it around 10:45 on a Thursday night a little less than a month ago, right in the middle of U-M finals weeks. Timing-wise, we were closer to the end of finals than the beginning, so about half the campus was out celebrating the end of school and their last few days in Ann Arbor, and the other wallowing in their lack of ~super fun~ bar-ridden snap stories. I was the latter half.
The guy: I met Jim at a bar--Cantina, or Tina for short--sometime back in January or February, at which point we developed a deep romantic relationship. By deep romantic relationship, I mean we exchanged the occasional 1 a.m. "whats up" text, as well as a couple "u going to tina tn?" Too my heartbreaking dismay, we never actually saw each other once after that one fateful night he decided to sit down in our booth and introduce himself. My mom would have loved to meet him...
Though our usual 1 a.m. "whats up"s usually never went anywhere, they would every so often develop into incredibly strange "conversations" that I deleted the next morning to avoid the possibility of cringing through them. This was by far the most cringeworthy. Incidentally it was also the last.
Disclaimer: His name is not actually Jim and he is not a hot plumber; I decided to leave his name out for discretionary purposes. Hot Jim Plumber is an incredibly beyond attractive plumber that came to my decrepit apartment a couple times to fix various appliances, and gave me his number in case anything else broke. In my perfect fantasy world, Hot Jim Plumber would be the one texting me, and the night would end with us eloping to Atlantic City and getting married by a B+ Elvis impersonator. That has yet to happen.
A (Poor) Attempt at Decoding
A tale of wasting time via pointless endeavors by yours truly.
"Im at tina and thought id text u haha"
I'm going to take this to mean that he went to Cantina that night and thought to text me. The historical evidence supports this inference.
I'll give him a pass for his unnecessary use of "haha" given my just as painfully unnecessary use of "lol". And don't worry, I'm way ahead of you: I'd like to formally apologize for the middle-school-ality of texts on both our behalves. I'm just as embarrassed for the both of us as you are.
"Classic how is that..."
I'm assuming the "classic" is referring to the general trend of me being on the couch in a groutfit whenever he voiced his wonderment of what I was up to at 1 in the morning. Or that he left the "al" off of "classical" and is imagining me lounging Mozart style, grand piano and powdered wig and all. Either is equally likely.
At first glance, I'd normally take the "how is that" to mean he would like to know, out of genuine curiosity or general politeness, how my couch was treating me--was it being polite? Was it being a good host? Did it ask me how my day was?--but not so fast! Upon further examination we can see that I didn't actually respond to his question! Plot twist! Maybe he didn't actually need me to because he already had his next message in the holster ready to go. Maybe the "..." was his way of subtly letting me know that, and my inability to pick up hints or nuances was my subtle way of not subtly understanding his subtleties.
"You are the most funny couch potato ive ever met. Needless to say couch potatoes are never funny"
This is where the confusion begins; I believe literary scholars refer to this as the "rising action." The first sentence on its own is quite a lovely compliment, at least compared the cast of compliments I usually get. Its almost as if I've added charm to the single least charming way to describe a person.
When we add the second part I feel myself losing some of my dazzling charm. Jim clearly has some deeply rooted problems with couch potatoes, maybe his dad was a couch potato and the one time he got up he never came back? Deeply rooted problems aside, I have some pretty important questions about his matter-of-fact statement about couch potatoes: Are couch potatoes really never funny? Even if they're mostly never funny, am I included in the category of "unfunny couch potato" or has my most funniness exempt me from that? Disregarding my up in the air status of funniness, was it really needless to say that couch potatoes are never funny? I mean you did say it, so that itself tells me that maybe there was a need to say it. I'm getting lost in your flawed circular logic, Jim. This is why we can't have nice things.
"Im only being mean cause im bitter cause i cant drink"
This is where the the confusion reaches its highest point; I believe literary scholars refer to this as the "turning point," and porn stars refer to it as the "climax." Up until this point I had just assumed his cryptic message to be a result of subpar texting skills, something I am all to familiar with, but now I'm starting to think there was some negative aura being pointed my way, and I don't appreciate any aura whatsoever, you damn hippy! Normally I'd fall back on drunk texting to be the source of misplaced anger, but he nixed that option in the bud. Without any real substantial evidence as to where exactly he's "being mean" or why his sobriety is my problem, I'll continue to take this as the Guinness World Record for Strangest Compliment. Thank you to "Hot Jim Plumber," without who'm I most certainly wouldn't be in this situation.
Conclusion: I clearly wasn't meant for social interaction. Maybe I should just find a cat.
Unless you have any ideas Internet, in which case feel free to chime in. (please)