The Mysteries of S.

When I switched my cell number in Victoria for a local number, I never imagined I would be gaining a fraction of somebody else's life, along with the new area code. The other person is named S___. Here are a few things I know about him: at some point in the past few years, a woman caused him some kind of heartache that he's still bitter about. Random girls call him from clubs at 4 in the morning. And he enjoyed the services of a masseuse, but not necessarily of the Swedish variety. Don't worry, I'm not stalking him. It's just that a few days ago I received the following text:

"Note to all my faves.. I'm getting out of the business.. going from full service to straight massage..last day is Oct 3rd so pre book an appt now or you will miss out..thanks its been a wild ride :)"

At first, I wanted to text back "OH HAS IT NOW?", to make up for all the times I refrained from answering "Pardon me, but this is MRS. S____ SPEAKING" after yet another drunk girl searching to get laid woke me up past midnight. But I didn't. Every one of these cases of digital eavesdropping was unintentional- I never asked the girls to call, or the ex to text looking for a Thanksgiving reconciliation. But I still felt like I was intruding each time they happened.

Because here are a few things I don't know about S____: what he looks like. How old he is. What his last name might be. And since I do not know all these boring, but public, facts, I feel like I have no right to anything private. All I did was pick up the phone number he abandoned, and now poor Shane is missing out on his last chance for a wild ride.