Somehow it felt like a Thursday, even though it was a Tuesday. Ryan was already exhausted, frustrated and burnt out. He’d been to the gym, cranked Slayer for an hour, but still, hadn’t gotten out all of his aggression and angst. He knew what he needed. He needed to fuck his rage out. But it was a Tuesday night and he was too tired to bother going to a bar looking for someone to bring home.
“Fuck it,” he thought, picking up his phone. Surely there was someone who lived nearby that would not be entirely mortified by a very direct text. But how to craft it in such a way that wouldn’t outright say, “Hey, wanna fuck?” but would still convey that message.
Eventually, he decided on the old standard.
“You up?” He texted a woman who lived down the street from him. They’d hung out casually at happy hours before. She didn’t respond.
“You up?” He texted someone else. Another woman he met at a work function.
“Wuddup?” she asked with a winky face.