Tag Archives: lostmessages

The Other Inbox

You log in and log off multiple times a day, which doesn’t even count how many times you check your phone when you’re waiting for something in reality to happen or go away.  You check so often that you have honed your skimming skills, knowing when to gloss over stupid things that were “shared” to spread questionable or obvious information, photos of sick kids farming for likes, and yet another Grumpy Cat pic.  (OK, you look at some of the Grumpy Cat pics.)

But somehow you hadn’t realized the other inbox until that co-worker made a joke about it.  Plenty of messages came in and got read; some replied to, some ignored.  Some conversations left.  But that extra inbox hadn’t occurred to you.  Actually, you tell yourself, maybe you had seen it, and just assumed it was a spam folder.  Or did you tell yourself that because you like to think you know how all this stuff works?  Anyway, you chuckled at the joke, and waited until you got back to your desk to look.

A lot of it was actually spam.  Bands you didn’t really know, events you hadn’t agreed to attend. All easily and quickly deleted.  But there was also a series of messages from him.  They didn’t even merge together into a single thread, since you had never replied.  So you had to click through each of them, a series of notes that fill in holes of conversations you hadn’t taken part in.  From the first message all the way to the one from last week, you read all of them.  

You went through them again before logging out and switching back to a work window.  Even on the way home, you thought about whether to reply.  The other inbox offered a clear explanation, a reason.  A chance.

Other:

OK, this is the last time I’ll reach out to you.  I can take a hint.  It may take a while, but I’ll get it.  Sorry to be a nuisance or whatever.  Have a nice one.

Previous — Next

Other: This is not a message

I was thinking of asking you if maybe I said or did something to piss you off, or if you just never really cared, or some other passive aggressive (or maybe aggressive aggressive) way to push you to write back and apologize.  Or tell me what I need to apologize for.  Or what’s going on with you that’s blocking this from going forward, from…  

But I don’ t think it’s something with you.  The song is called It’s Probably Me for a reason.  (Gordon always has something appropriate, huh?)  Anyway…I thought about it, but I won’t send that out there.  Nothing good can come of that.  Right?

PreviousNext

Other: With the crowd

On a trip down to Arizona for the weekend to check out some spring training games. No one has asked to see my papers yet, so I got that going for me. I mentioned to the guy I’m down here with that you would hate hate triple-word hate this. People watching only gets you through about three innings, with beer maybe pushing you to the stretch. (He’s actually annoyed that I brought i up a couple of times.) It’s funny that a negative is what I think of when doing something I really like. Anyway, it’s really dry down here at Camelback, and it gets surprisingly cold at night.

PreviousNext

Other: Update

Everything worked out fine for Joel and Rick. In case you were wondering.

PreviousNext

Other: night

Walking back from that new whiskey place up the street late tonight, everything seemed so quiet.  Even the frayed energy of the sleeping city had shut up, at least for a couple of hours.  The wind didn’t have enough force to push at my ears, but it tickled the fallen leaves enough to make them skitter around the sidewalk. I kept thinking it was the sound of people following me, maybe a gang or a hit squad sneaking into positions around me.  Or someone preparing for a quick-draw duel.  I didn’t have a weapon; I didn’t even have a working phone.  My battery had died while I sat at the bar and flipped through tweets I didn’t care about. So I couldn’t call for help even if I wanted to.

PreviousNext

Other: Ignore call

I remember on our couch nights, tearing through seasons of something or other on Netflix, when your phone would buzz and you’d grunt and slap at it to turn it off. You’d always look to see who it was, but you’d never take it. They’d have to call like five times in a row to make you think it was an emergency before you’d even text them back with indignation. I never said it, but I always thought that I hoped you’d never do that to me. That you’d always answer. I know that stuff happened, but that was a while ago. Is it too late? Are you really on the couch all the time now?

PreviousNext