Blake was 22 years old and worked at his parents’ general goods store in America making an honest living; he tended to customers, counted stock, cleaned the floors, lifted heavy things, shined the windows, helped old ladies to their cars, etc. – he was an honest guy, who did right by himself and those he cared for. In his free time, Blake found comfort writing short plays that he and his friends would put up in his parent’s basement. He wrote some pretty funny stuff, so I’m told.
One Autumn afternoon whilst perched at the front of his store counter, he found himself writing vigorously until a young blond woman approached the counter carrying two bags of dog food. Blake engaged in small talk with the bas bleu, for she appeared to have interest in Blake’s writings.
“I’m an an actress,” she said curiously, “and I would love to read more of your work.” She took out her phone enthusiastically and said, “here, mind if I like, have your number?”, she spoke with a nervous smile whilst twirling her fingers in her golden hair.
Blake grabbed the phone and said, “Absolutely positively you can have my number beautiful woman who has interest in the things that I have interest in!” Of course, he didn’t really say that, but he narrowed his response to one simple cool exclamation,
“Sure.”
Taylor, as she was called by those who knew her, said, “Nice to meet you, Blake.” She turned her head and began walking towards the exit with a purse in one hand and two bags of dog food in the other.
In the days that passed, Blake would grow obsessed with Taylor. His fascination for Taylor was enormous – whenever his phone rang, beeped, vibrated, or twitched he’d grab it immediately hoping the screen would say, “Hey, it’s Taylor what’s up?” Unfortunately, it was the usual bothersome notifications: Timehop reminders, Dictionary.com’s Word of the Day, a Facebook friend request, a Snapchat streak reminder – the usual boring stuff.
Alas, Taylor would not be the first to contact young Blake, but Blake did not know this because he would hope to not have to make the first move – he would not give in to the temptation.
The issue was that he didn’t have Taylor’s phone number, rather vice versa, therefore he was stuck waiting endlessly for her to act. For days, he stared blankly into his five-and-a-half-inch screen, a rectangular white glow smeared upon his anxious looking face.
Exhaustively, he caved and was forced to unveil his façade of ‘cool’ that he attempted to maintain. Whilst blanketed atop bed in his lofty studio apartment on the third floor of an ordinary complex on 146th street of New York City’s Upper West Side, Blake pulled out his iPhone and began his search for Taylor.
It took him three minutes and forty-six seconds to find Taylor’s Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, Tinder, Google plus, Twitter and her 12-year-old MySpace accounts.
Without restraint, Blake messaged Taylor a simple, “Hey”, and waited. The first thing to happen was the empty blue circle turned into a filled blue circle, thus signifying the message was delivered – not read, but delivered.
Instead of glaring at the message bubbles, waiting for a reply, Blake spent his time achieving a better score in the popular game, Flappy Bird.
He checked for a reply.
Nothing.
He went back to play Flappy bird for another few rounds.
He checked for another reply and still nothing.
Instead of double-tapping back to Flappy Bird, Blake decided to scroll through his Snapchat stories; he saw that his friends were having a night out on the town. Blake, of course, was invited to go with them but claimed he was too tired – in reality, he knew his anxiety of the ‘Taylor Situation’, as he would later refer to it as would dampen the spirits of his thespian friends. So Blake stayed in.
After and hour or two, Blake gave up hope and went to bed.
The next morning, he turned over to find out that his phone was empty.
Blake did not receive any text, Facebook message, Snapchat, or phone call; his Notification Center was as barren as the Sahara Desert. The only communication he would receive that entire week from the opposite sex would be from his mother, in fact.
To be quite frank with you, Blake would never see or hear from Taylor again.
As unfortunate as it sounds, it’s true.
It’s not that Taylor didn’t fancy Blake, Blake had actually just put his phone number in Taylor’s phone incorrectly, therefore she was unable to contact him. And the message on Facebook? Well Taylor was actually one of those people who didn’t go on Facebook anymore, a true revolutionary.
The two did eventually see each other at a bar once. It was painfully awkward for the two because one had thought the other intentionally ignored them and vice versa – and what do two mature adults do in a situation such as this? Pretend nothing ever happened and not talk about it.
Blake went on to become a successful contemporary playwright.
Taylor, funny enough, worked in a few of his pieces, as well as some commercial gigs.
