Yes, some of us have made them, rarely sober, usually drunk and then? Well it’s just too late after you’ve pressed that button.
So what exactly defines an Ex booty call?
Well put simply, an Ex Booty call is the moment you lose all self control (usually after drinking you weight in freebie purple-coloured shots while out on the town) and send a communication to an ex for a moment of forget-me-not passion. In the very worst scenario, the intended recipient will be someone you’ve met last weekend and whose number you should have clearly deleted. Booty calls come in all shapes and sizes and thanks to advances in technology, they are instantly and (unfortunately) delivered the moment your brain disengages with your finger.
They can range from the subtle “I just thought I’d call you and see how you’re doing” to the shameful “Whose voice was that on YOUR answer phone” and our all time favourite, “I still love you and want you back” type of public humiliation.
Not big, not clever and ultimately regrettable.
So why do they happen?
Well to begin with, the majority of Ex booty calls take place when we are under the influence of something called alcohol. The type of alcohol has no relevance here but the quantity certainly does. The more you consume, the more likely you are to make that shame-inducing telecommunication. And boy-oh-boy, there’s nothing like a bit of morning-after shame added to your already bitter hangover. Alcohol is like your friends – great when around but can’t help you in the morning when you are pinned under the arm of the muppet who’s been the cause of your grief over the last few tormented months. You try to leave quietly but it’s too late – you’ve exchanged god-knows-what bodily fluids and now you ultimately have to take that walk of shame in your baggy knee’d hot pants looking like Alice cooper with a bad makeover.
What are the warning signs?
If you are one of the few ‘fortunates’, you will have lost your purse/coat/phone/mind and thus have been unable to navigate your way to your exes house by the light of the silvery moon while hobbling undaintedly on the one remaining heal that’s now dragging behind you like the relationship you know you should forget.
However.
If by some miracle you may have actually have made it to the middle of the taxi rank, demanded priority place at the front of the still-dancing queue people as you weepily tell bemused townies that your emotional future depends on you making this journey to the heart to Bolton (with 50p you begged off a tramp) to tell your ex that it’s all been a big mistake and you regret not agreeing to an open relationship.
Are text messages safe?
Maybe you are one of the many who prefer the more subtle approaches to shame and take advantage of that re-readable, forwardable and ultimate of booty call communications – the text message.That seemingly innocuous abbreviated set of characters you pawed into your Bacardi soaked, sugar pink Missy60 mobile might seem a wonderful method of re-announcing your undying love (once you have realised you have to type the words in and that it cannot read your emotional state) but it’s a Trojan horse! That innocent looking purse-sized accessory is a primed emotional missile just waiting to be launched and after one drink too many, you risk priming that nuclear head-hack and sending it to its ultimately and regrettable destination.
What is the worst case scenario?
At the very worst, you may have convinced yourself that there must have been an atomic storm and all the mobile satellites circling harmlessly in the night sky have been knocked out. So what do you do? You send another text but this time, you try to remember what you wrote in your last one (in case one satellite survived) and say it again using CAPITALS. Let’s face it, sending messages in capitals tells your ex you ARE drunk and are not only incapable of finding the lower case option but lack the sobriety to realistically discuss the reasons why you should get back together one more time. But no, you are not convinced – your message must have gone into the ethos and so you decide in your blurry haze to try and find your way to his place and by sheer luck, find yourself outside his front door in the middle of the night, feeling suddenly sober and out of place stood next to his bin. In a sober(ish) moment you realise where you are and decide not to hammer on his door so hard that you leave one of your (remaining) false glitter nails embedded into his door. You see his Wheelie bin and you look at it with different eyes (the good one) and so begins the paranoia. What if there is some evidence of his infidelity within his trash?You know you shouldn’t and surely god help you, you couldn’t. Half way into his wheelie bin, and without having found that crucial piece of evidence you sense that you have an audience. It’s your ex’s mum and she’s been looking after his goldfish while he has been on holiday with his mates, hence why you didn’t get a text reply when you ‘ demanded’ it .
Oops.
Our advice would be not to drink or at least tell the friends you are with, to watch out for the signs of Booty Call hysteria and should you mention the name of your Ex more than three times within any consecutive minute, pack you off in a taxi so you can go home and write in your Diary. Even though you’ll have a hangover from hell the next morning, you will be in a much better state to ponder just how close you came to embarrassing yourself beyond redemption and you won’t do it again. Hopefully.
