When I was in law school, I had a single apartment. Unlike undergrad, where roommates often get in the way and where studying was less frequent, I felt a single apartment would offer me the solitude needed for marathon study sessions. So, because I was often the only person at home, friends knew they could call me late at night and, unless a female voice answered, it wouldn't be that big of a deal.
One evening, I called my friend V_____. V_____ had gone to undergrad with me, but left for graduate school in Canada (see Sass, I know someone else from Canada). V____ and I had always been fast friends and often engaged in the verbal jousting that tested both intellect and flirtation. V____ told me that she couldn't talk at the time, but promised she would call me back.
I ended up falling asleep and was awoken to the sound of my ringing phone.
"Heeelllooo," I said in that sleepy weariness between the world of the sandman and reality.
"Hi!," exclaimed the exceedingly cheery voice on the phone.
"Hi, how are you?," I asked V____, still drifting in and out of consciousness.
"I'm gooood! Were you asleep?" she asked, still exceedingly cheery.
"Uh huh," I responded, fighting to keep myself awake.
"Want me to come over and cuddle?"
I understand, at this point, I probably should have realized that this was not V_____. I mean, V____ lived in Canada and I was in Florida. But for some reason, I thought not only that this was V____, but that she was fucking with me. So, in proper fashion, I played along.
"Of course, I do! Hold on a second. Let me wake up."
Then I put the phone down and rubbed my eyes. I sat up to fight off the sleepiness and, finally, picked up the phone.
"Okay, I'm back."
"Okay, so you want me to come over and cuddle?," she repeated. There was a high pitched giggle in the background, that I realized had been there for most of this conversation.
Now, that I had awoken, my dreary voice was back to normal.
"Sure," I said maintaining my side of the charade, "do you know where to go?"
"Wait a second," there was a pause and in my mind's eye, I could see this girl figuring out this wasn't the voice of the person she had intended to call. She returned, serious as a heart attack, stating, "Is Tim there?"
"Uh...sorry, there's no Tim here."
"I'm sorry. Wrong number."
"No problem. Does this mean you're not coming over to cuddle?"
And while I considered the fun I could have had with call return (a/k/a *69), I went back to sleep with a smile, knowing I had just given two college girls one hell of a story to tell.