So, I used to have an iPhone, well, I still have it but… (long story short) I don’t use it anymore. As I browsed through my old conversations I came across this HILARIOUS conversation.
I met Mike at Club One in Baltimore (cute spot, check it out). During this point in my life, I went to the club with one aim (I’m sure I share with many other females): Get as many free drinks as possible.  If I didn’t like the drink or couldn’t finish it, I’d give it to the guy I was dating at the time, who happened to be the DJ. He watched over me from Club One’s elevated booth as I played the floor. I mean, it saved us both money.
I give out my number at the club for three reasons:
1. I don’t have to pick up. Call as many times as you want.
2. After a guy gets your number, he loses interest. He feels like his work is done and the battle is won so you don’t have to talk to him the rest of the night. And he doesn’t want to talk to you either. Exactly what I’m looking for. (Except, this might make them like you more. Double-edged sword.)
3. Most men are cheap and wont buy you a drink if you don’t give your number. I really don’t care. My number is listed on my Facebook if you want it. Again, I don’t have to pick up. That’s condition #1, remember?
The point is, one of my biggest turnoffs is when a man doesn’t know when to quit. I find nothing attractive about a man I can walk all over. Mike was one of those guys. It gets to the point when you have to be rude so that they’ll never write back again.  Some guys think my rudeness is funny until I’m a blatant bitch.
Additionally, I think I hadn’t spoken to him in months when I got the initial text in this exchange. If you haven’t spoken to me in months, please don’t call. I erased your number, you should erase mine.
To Mike: Sorry, but you’re annnoooyyiinngg. Oh & you can still reach me via Western Union!