A basic white hoe’s guide to the games of texting
We’re more confused than you are
Texting – the basic white hoe's kryptonite. We can text, sext and even date without the ritual of shaving every inch of skin, matching the winged liner and deciding whether the pink or black velvet top is cuter.
However, there are strict rules to the texting game. The most important info is hidden between the emojis and how many kisses used – jokes it's not 2009, no one has time to count kisses these days.
Wait two hours to reply
It's a classic, everyone does it – lads included – and no one admits to it. But it's compulsory for casual dating, it's just a little nudge that you only want a one night stand, fuck buddy or maybe just a couple free drinks when the overdraft limit is approaching. No hoe wants Boy 2.3 expecting immediate replies when as your friend asks the, slightly soul crushing, "which boy is this?", you have to reply "Subway Guy 2…no wait, it's American Footballer!"
Early disappointment guarantees post sex resentment – am I right ladies?
Don't over do it with the emojis
Before the resentment kicks in from Boy 3.1 after you've successfully used him, he needs to know that you're interested in all things casual first. The laughing and winky face are staples – if they're not you're most used emojis you may as well declare celibacy immediately.
When the messages are edging on platonic rather than "let's bang", then it's time to whip out the big guns – the winky tongue face emoji. This has only one possible interpretation: sex. Maybe this one is restricted for us hard core hoes only.
Sarcastic or offensive? Send.
Here's the golden rule: we don't intentionally insult you mid flirting, mid sexting, mid anything. We just don't have the time or effort to analyse whether a message, which is LITERALLY dripping in sarcasm, may offend you. So for the sarcastic hoes, add a winky face to every sarcastic message. Keeps those boys happy and your sense of humour satisfied.
Nudes – Just. Don't. Do. It.
When I'm sat in a 9am, what I don't need is to suffer through PTSD for the rest of the day because you just had to send that surprise snap of your cock. Dick pics are unflattering, inconvenient and quite honestly, useless. So if you must fulfil your daily self-esteem boost, send your abs, biceps, literally any body part except your dick.
Besides, what are we even supposed to reply to them? There's only so many times we can type, "nice", when what we mean is, "please fuck off, it's too early for me to translate lecturer speak let alone devise a message that doesn't insult your ego but doesn't boost it too much either."
And btw, you won't be getting anything in return. As if I like you enough to go through that whole process.
If we text you first, we're not desperate.
We're horny, not in love with you. You're not the centre of my world before you start firing terrifying questions about dating, marriage and children at me. *Shivers in recoil*
Chill the fuck out.
When we actually like you
Hold on tight boys, because we're just as confused as you are. We constantly complain about being single and how Fruity Boy 30.8 isn't as fit as he was four treble vodka cokes in and how we want feels just like our "relationship friends." But the moment we get those feels, we ghost you, delete you from every social media platform and grab the closest alcoholic beverage.
Confused yet lads? Me too.
And that brings us to ghosting
We've stopped replying. We either got bored or we actually like you. So like every addict, we step away from our poison kicking and screaming, go to AA – aka, the best friend – and count the days until it's safe to text a new boy.
And we wonder why we're single.