When we last left our group text (Part 1), a simple well-wishing had been waylaid, but I still had hope. An hour had passed. Two. Not a peep from anyone. I dropped my guard. I was enjoying a lazy day with my family. Suddenly, a beep.
- Can’t believe Familia blew it. 2-0 lead. He stinks.
I’m a Mets fan. I was frustrated. I wanted to lash out too, but not on the same group thread I started hours ago. I didn’t respond, but that didn’t stop a half-dozen other Mets-related texts from zipping back and forth. An hour later, another shot across the bow:
- Where’s the mustard?
Huh? The mustard? What had happened? There was nowhere to go but down after this. What had I unleashed on the world? I felt responsible.
- Never mind. Found it.
There hadn’t been time for anyone to answer the original question, so naïve as I am, I reckoned it was over. What I hadn’t counted on was the onslaught of congratulatory e-mails:
- Good for you!
- Hooray!
- Yea!
- Way to go!
It was amazing the passion that mustard could arouse. How would they respond to another condiment? Ketchup or Worcestershire sauce? I didn’t want to find out. It was my thread. I had started it. I was its father, but it had turned its back on me. It was early evening and it was time to remove myself from this thread:
- Hey, guys, can you take me off this thread?
You can say almost anything in a text message, use any slang you want, bad grammar, misspellings – almost anything – but if you ask out, if you dare defy the group, you’ll find yourself in deep trouble.
- What? Too good for us?
- Hey, you started it.
- Buzzkill, Bobster.
- Boy, have you changed. LOL.
Make no mistake: there’s a lot of anger in those LOLs. No one’s really laughing out loud. It’s okay though. I get it. I’ve rejected condiments. I’d like to defend myself, but it’s better off letting it go. Or is it? What do you think?
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