Is Today The Perfect Time To Send Your Ex Drunken Texts? We Investigate

TODAY of all days can be tough on the newly or terminally single. Thursdays really are a bitch of day to get through.

On tough days the mind can drift, and lost in thought we can occasionally cast a nostalgic eye back to the Exs of Thursday Past, but is this day of days, Thursday, really the perfect time to make contact with an ex? Especially seen as you’ve been drinking since 9am?

WWN is taking one for the team; getting so pissed we’re firing off texts, so bleary eyed we don’t even know what we’ll have to apologise for and say ‘sorry my asshole friend got a hold of my phone and was messing, honest’.

The alchemy of heartache, jealousy, loneliness and 8 pints minimum can be quite a glorious sight but how does one drunkenly text their ex correctly, on this day, and is it really advised?

First pint.

It’s too early to text since we’re not even close to drunk, so let’s just open up that old shoebox of memories we keep under the bed. Ah here we go, a goldmine of really unhelpful emotions begin stirring deep within us. We’re off to a perfect start. There’s our ex, two hands, two legs, a mouth, nose and two eyes, just like we remember them.

Pint number two.

Shouldn’t have skipped breakfast, we’re already feeling this. We sort of did that deep intake of breath there but it turned into a whimper with a wobbly lip like we were going to cry while seeing that picture of them in a silly hat. Great! One more can down the laneway outside work later and we’ll be ready to get typing well constructed texts that will have no negative impact on us at all.

Once, twice, three times a pint

Texting time. After much consideration, rummaging our minds for a shared memory we have with our ex, some inside jokes, we’ve nailed it. We have the winning opening text, and we’re pretty confident we’ve basically guaranteed we’re getting back with the best thing that ever happened to us.

“Hey…”

The three dots are key, it’s an invitation to start a new life together. The dots basically say ‘remember me? I’m amazing, let’s have kids together’.

What’s a fourth pint among one lonely man by himself on a park bench quietly crying?

Fuck, we had no idea this craft beer shite was 9%. Fuck. We’re a little melancholy. What with the whole 30 minute panic-fest after pressing send on the message and regretting ever being born.

But we plowed through that brief meltdown, and we’re pretty confident to follow up selfies of us smiling with a few pigeons in the background sort of turned things around. And the all caps ‘FUCKING TEXT BACK’ follow up text.

We’re calling this thing. Today is the perfect day to send drunken texts but why stop there?

Pint five. There are many pints, but this pint is mine.

Voicemail time! Christ we’re charming. There’s nothing like a bit of alcohol to get the romantic thoughts flowing. We sang ‘our song’ down the phone to them. Although it was more their song that we were forced into accepting as ‘our song’. They always had to get their own way. So controlling. Always so negative and frankly, petty. Remember that weekend in Prague? Honestly, ruined the weekend they did. God,we miss them so much.

Our singing sounded pretty good through the tears even if the pigeons fucked off once we started.

Pint six

Yeah, we’re crying again. A bit horny too. Look, it’s a confusing time with conflicting emotions for everyone.

Pint seven, a shot with an old lad at the bar we went into just to take a slash but now we have a new best friend. He bought us another two pints.

Babe. Babe. If Tom, the lad here in O’Hartigans, says we’re meant to be and we should get back together who are we to argue> The fact he tells us he hasn’t had a shower since 1998 because of all the brain altering chemicals they put in the water is immaterial.

Pint 12

Oh shit, we remember now, no wonder they’re not texting back – we with slept with their best friend. Our bad.

Conclusion: drunkenly texting your ex can only be a positive thing. We made a new friend, Tom, and after learning that his bitch of a wife faked her own death and moved to Argentina just to get away from him we’re pretty confident love is a scam invented by the same people who put chemicals in our water.