Ironing the main wrinkles

My distaste for texting a potential girlfriend rises and falls like a wave.  It all depends on the conversation in which it is HOPED that the context isn't overthought out or minimized.

She's walking around behind her kids while they shop around for clothes:

FF: Hey!
Me: HEY!
FF: Working?
Me: No. Just out of shower. I'm squeaky.
FF: Can you make me squeaky?
Me: depends on what you're talking about, but I have made you squeal a few times.
FF: That's what I was meaning.

We go on for a few minutes with some semi-innocent banter for a few minutes and then:

FF: I don't like this. Just frustrated by how much I think of you already.
Me: Oh. Hate it when that happens.  Do you need a break?
FF: DON'T YOU DARE! Don't even think about leaving my brain.
Me: LOL. Ok. I seem to remember you saying you wanted to ate other men so you don't make the same mistake.
FF: I'm trying to find guys to date...not working out yet.
Me:  I hear ya'. Dating can suck.
FF:   I don't think I made mistakes last time.
Me: Oh? I think you alluded to the fact that you picked the wrong guy.*
FF:  No.  I don't think I choose wrong. Made bad decision to go back to him.
Me: That I can understand and appreciate.

With that, she disappeared failing to complete the conversation.
I'm getting used to this, so I just close the phone and then in frustration I yank my cats tail as a means to vent.**



* During our first meeting, she explained that her husband had cheated on her once before.
**Don't worry, she likes that and a good spanking.   No kitties were harmed in the making of this conversation or blog.