Page 8 of Wrong Number, Right Grumpy Lumberjack

Wrong Number Guy:

Yes.

Me:

Really?

Wrong Number Guy:

Every night for two years.

Me:

What happened two years ago

Wrong Number Guy:

Lost someone.

He didn't say more, and I didn't push. We lay in our separate beds in separate cities, three hours apart, texting in the dark about nothing until I fell asleep mid sentence. In the morning, there was one last text from him.

Wrong Number Guy:

You're not going to be alone forever. For what it's worth.

Week nine, I got drunk on a Wednesday because Tessa cancelled our phone call and the apartment was too quiet. Bad wine. Worse judgment.

Me:

Do you wanna know what my ideal man looks like

Wrong Number Guy:

I have a feeling you're going to tell me regardless.

Me:

TALL. Big hands. Doesn't talk too much because I talk ENOUGH for two people. Grumpy but secretly soft. Has a dog. Makes things with his hands. Smells like wood.

Oh my god

I just described you didn't I

Wrong Number Guy:

Noted.

One word.Noted. I screamed into my pillow and didn't text him for eighteen hours, which was the longest I'd gone since the first Tuesday. He broke the silence.

Wrong Number Guy:

For the record. You didn't describe me. I don't smell like wood. I smell like sawdust. Different species.

Me:

Was THAT a joke???

Wrong Number Guy: