Lifestyle

14 Texts Every Single New Yorker Has Received

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Day-to-day interactions in New York are brief, at best. We don’t have time for lengthy phone calls or, even worse, sidewalk stop-and-chats. Our social lives can best be summed up in texts, many of which we have all undoubtedly received (or sent) at one point (or a whole bunch of points) during our time here. These are those texts.
 

“The wait for brunch is, like, two hours...”

This doesn’t even warrant a text. This should have been expected.

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“Be there in 15!”

It will actually be closer to 45. They probably haven’t even left yet. And they’re maybe in the shower.

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“Wanna hang out?”

Specifically at 3am and double specifically from someone we’ve “dated.” Double spoiler alert: 1) you probably shouldn’t respond, and 2) it doesn’t actually mean hang out! There’s also its slightly more off-putting cousin “U out” and its twin “U up.”

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“Omg I just saw Jimmy Fallon!”

All. The. Time.

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“Where are you?” “Brooklyn.” [silence…]

Yeah, they’re not coming to meet you.

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“G Train.”

The explanation for constant bouts of tardiness or reasons why your friends won’t come visit you.

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“Heyyy… can we reschedule? Kinda feeling a solo night.”

Nope. They just matched with someone on Tinder.

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“Know anyone who needs a roommate?”

Whether you have a friend of a friend who is maybe possibly thinking about moving to New York, or your landlord just hiked your rent up a gajillion percent, someone is ALWAYS looking for an apartment. Usually this is a mass text.

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“You're never going to believe what happened to me on the subway.”

Yes, we will. And we expect you to follow this up with pictures.

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“Ok I just got to Ditmas Park. Now where do I go?”

You know Manhattan, your neighborhood, and maybe Williamsburg. You have no idea how to get around anywhere else. And what the hell is a Cortelyou?

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“So… I just got off the phone with Time Warner...”

The second text will always be something soul-crushingly negative. Always.

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“Sara found bed bugs.”

And so begins the extrication of Sara from the group.

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“You gonna be out in the city this weekend?”

We ALL live in the city. But you know that this actually means Manhattan.

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“I fucking HATE this city.”

You don’t, really. It’s just snowing, or raining, or a cab just cost you $35 because there were no trains going to Queensboro Plaza. But when you’re sitting outside at a cafe in the East Village sipping sangria at happy hour on a beautiful summer Friday, you’ll realize you were just being dramatic.

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Meagan Drillinger is a freelance writer for Thrillist. She will do anything to avoid a stop-and-chat. Follow her on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter at @drillinjourneys.