I Get Booty Calls at 2PM on Sunday Afternoons

New York Cliché

It’s 2014, I hardly ever talk on the phone. If I do, it’s either work related, my parents, or my BFF whose wedding I am in this coming June. Boys never call anymore, ever. It’s pretty much a rule. Can you even remember the last time a boy (who wasn’t your boyfriend) called you, apart from a perfunctory can’t-find-you-oh-you’re-at-the-other-Starbucks-on-46th-and-7th sort of call? The age of texting has all but eradicated the once infamous Awkward Phone Call. This was something I happily believed, until my phone rang last Sunday.

Last Sunday I had the most awkward phone conversation of my life. Considering how little I talk on the phone, it may hold that distinction for quite some time. It was about 2PM, I was getting ready to leave the house for a late lunch date. In typical Mary Lane fashion, I was running late for said late lunch date. When my phone buzzed, I looked…

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