Emotional Insurance

I believe in insurance. If something happens to my car, I have Progressive. If something happens to my apartment, I have Allstate. If something happens to my health, I have some crappy work-approved HMO. If something happens as I'm dating, I have Delete.

Emotional insurance is a tool that I firmly believe all women should invest in. Here's how it works:

Scenario 1: You meet a guy. You like the guy. You and the guy talk, perhaps go out on what you percieve to be a good date. You like the guy. The guy never calls again. It's time for Delete.

Scenario 2: You meet a guy. You give the guy a chance. You and the guy talk, perhaps go out on a date that that is like watching the Charlie Sheen meltdown--in other words, a train wreck. You need Delete.

Delete is the best kind of emotional insurance there is. Now, for the most part, I would say that I'm a very rational woman. I am truly not prone to emotional outbursts. I approach most problems calmly. I do not cry at commercials featuring puppies and I think some babies are funny-looking.

Even with all that, at the end of the day I'm still a girl. This means that even I can be affected by the "I'll just see how he's doing" syndrome. In my youth, I would occasionally call a guy when things had fizzled out. It never worked out well.

Luckily, I'm a quick learner. It only took a dozen boys in high school for me to realize that Delete is the best tool for emotional insurance.

Nothing is worse than that constant tugging at the bottom of one's stomach, encouraging a woman to make a call that she knows she shouldn't. Even as her fingers are dialing the numbers and her rational brain is saying, "Are you serious? This is a bad idea. This is even worse than the cheesecake home delivery fiasco of 1998," her heart (ok, keep it real, loins) are cajoling, "Go ahead. He'll answer."

I'll be honest, dear reader, I've been affected by this horrible condition. So, some years ago I invested in Delete.

Here's how it works: The minute I decide that I'd rather bring Shrek home that the man I'm dating, I Delete his number. I have to act quickly--if I want a day or two, I may concoct a reason to keep the number. Delete is a fine tool for all women to invest in. It's free.
It's easy. It's reliable.

I not only Delete his number, I go through the process of Deleting all texts, emails, picture mails, voice mails and any other means of contact. I'm thorough: I conduct a CIA like sweep of all technology to Delete any potential way to contact the guy.

This way I can't call you on a lonely, rainy Thursday afternoon. I can't be affected by a having a weak moment while watching a romantic movie. I literally can't let my heart (read, loins) veto my brain. It's emotional insurance.

It's a great tool.

Except when it isn't.

Occasionally, I Delete a number accidentally. Usually from a guy whom I actually like, but through a series of unfortunate events and misunderstandings.

Every once in a while I'll get a text from a guy from a number with no name attached. Inevitably, the text will read:

"Hey! You've been on my mind. How are you doing?"

And I'll know that the person on the other end was Deleted because there is no name.

And, inevitably, my curiousity will be piqued. So, I'll respond.

"Great!"

And, then the Deleted will write back, "Do you remember me? :)" or "Do you know who this is :)"

Sigh. No. I do not. I Deleted you.

Men--sensitive creatures that they are--rarely, if ever, respond well to being told "no." Especially if the question refers to them being remembered.

So, I've learned to be crafty. After a few minutes of mindless texting back and forth, with me calling my BBFF frantically asking him for advice on figuring out who the heck is on the other line, I always figure out who the Deleted is.

Yesterday the Deleted was the Schlump, Mr. I Don't Have A Car.

The conversation went like this:

"Howve u been  :)  "

"Good, you?"

"Uve been on my mind real tough"

"Um, really?"  As my internal monologue is thinking "who the hell is this?"

"Do u know who thisis?  :)"

Silence.

"Do you ever really know somebody?" I replied.

"Do you remember my name?"

Silence.

"Cmon, u dont remember me?  :)"

I'm thinking, hell no.  We haven't spoken in more than  a month, or I at least would have recognized the number.

"Why don't you refresh my memory"

"It's me ________ and I been threw sum real hard times so thats why U havent heard fr me cell came bk on so now I can call U nkeep N touch hope your single???"

Now, before I get lots of hate mail for not being interested in a man who "fell on hard times,"  let me remind you:  I didn't like this guy before the hard times.  I didn't like him during the normal, regularly trying times.

In this case, Delete worked kind of well, but we still ended up communicating.  So, I decided to upgrade the Schlump to the DNA plan.

DNA, the upgrade of Delete, works like this:

There is an extreme weirdo.  This weirdo you do not want to answer even accidentally.  So, you save his number as DNA, or Do Not Answer.  That way, whenever it pops up, you can avoid all contact.

Here's my advice to all women:  Invest in some emotional insurance.  Today.


Evelyn Parkside