Page 6 of Mr. Wrong Number

Me:Sure you were.

Mr. Wrong Number:On that note, I’m taking a survey on female attire. Can you describe your current outfit?

I glanced down at my gym shorts and texted:Valentino gown, Ferragamo pumps, and the kickiest little feathered hat you’ve ever seen. Might’ve belonged to the Queen.

Mr. Wrong Number:So you’re in pajamas.

Me:Basically.

Mr. Wrong Number:Antisocial by choice or bad luck?

Me:Choice. But my luck is, in fact, the baddest.

Mr. Wrong Number:Can’t be that bad.

Me:Oh, you have no idea.

Mr. Wrong Number:Three examples, please.

I smiled. It felt wildly freeing to talk to someone who didn’t know me.

Me:In college, I was clipping my toenails and ended up having to wear an eye patch for a month.

Mr. Wrong Number:Disgusting, but impressive. #2?

Me:I once got stuck in a tipped-over porta-potty.

Mr. Wrong Number:Good Lord.

Me:Music festival, strong winds. The thing blew over, door side down. I still have nightmares.

Mr. Wrong Number:I want to move on to #3, but I have to know how long you were trapped.

Me:Twenty minutes but it felt like days. My drunk friends lifted it enough for me to squeeze through the door crack.

Mr. Wrong Number:I’m assuming you were...

Me:Absolutely covered in waste.

Mr. Wrong Number:I just threw up a little in my mouth.

Me:As you should. And just to add a cherry to the top of your entertainment sundae, the story ends in me being doused with gallons of high-powered water that were dispensed by a fire hose.

Mr. Wrong Number:Wow. You definitely can’t top #2.

Me:Oh, you ignorant little fool. #2 is but a warm-up.

Mr. Wrong Number:Well give me #3, then.

I thought about it for a minute. I mean, there were hundreds of embarrassing bad luck moments I could’ve shared with him. The time I dropped a bowling ball on my toe on my first date,the time I fell into an empty pool and broke my elbow; such was my life. But since I didn’t know him and he didn’t know me, I shared the rawest one.

Me:Not only did I introduce my boyfriend—now ex—to my stunningly beautiful coworker, but I encouraged him to collaborate with her on a project that required them to spend countless hours alone together in her apartment.

Mr. Wrong Number:Oof.

Me:Right? Probably doesn’t qualify as bad luck when it’s pure stupidity.

Mr. Wrong Number:I don’t know you, so you could be a raging psycho. BUT. If you’re not, I think it makes you unbelievably cool, the fact that you’d trust them both that much.

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