A strange thing has been happening to me over the last couple of days. Brand this GTKY
if you will, but I thought I should share my experiences
I was in the POD nightclub in Dublin last Sunday night with a large group of friends. There were loads of people there, including friends of mine from New York and London. One of my London buddies introduced me to his sister who was visiting Ireland for the week. We got chatting and she seemed nice, although aged 21 and with a 37 year old boyfriend stuck me as slightly odd, nonetheless, we spraffed on for a while about London etc. then went our seperate ways. I later met her at the bar and she asked me could she use my phone to send a text message. I said "No problem", gave her the phone, she went away for 30 seconds, came back and said "Thanks".
Grand. Night ends, everyone goes home to bed.
The following tuesday I underwent this pleasant little exchange via SMS:
WHO R U
SAY HI TO SARAH 4 US
Me: Who is this?
Me: Who is Sarah?
THE SLAG U WERE WITH ON SUNDAY
Me: Huh? Um, where were you?
SHE TEXTD ME FROM YR FONE. IM IN ENGLAND YER PRICK
Only at this stage did the penny drop. I rang my English friend and told him what was happening. He confirmed his sister's name was Sarah and that they guy who was texting me was her 37 year old drug dealer boyfriend. In his paranoia he had convinced himself somehow that I had slept with his girlfriend and that she was texting him from my phone to rub his face in it. I checked my outbox as to the content of her message, but she had deleted it. Strange. Anyway, I was advised to ignore the messages and not reply to them. I said "fair enough" but I was a bit pissed off I was being threatened by some gangsta I had never met.
The messages stopped for the night. Then at 3am I receive the following:
GIVE HER 1 4 US
WOT, NO REPLY?
WANKER, I'LL GIT YA
I read these, chuckled quietly to myself, snuggled up to my girlfriend and fell asleep, happy in the knowledge that there is some sweaty tosser in another country thinking I have shagged his bird and now he's plotting my death.
Oh, the joy of text.