Page 7 of Sexting the Pakhan
She stares back.
“No,” I say.
“You haven’t even heard the idea.”
“I’ve heard enough.”
She waves that away. “You are going to text a random number.”
I blink. “I’m sorry?”
“A random number.”
“That’s not a real thing people do.”
“It is now.”
I laugh because she can’t possibly be serious, but the problem is she looks very serious, and Karina looking serious is one of the more ominous forces in my life.
“You want me to text a stranger,” I say slowly.
“Yes.”
“For confidence.”
“Yes.”
“That’s your plan.”
“It’s an excellent plan.”
“It’s unhinged.”
She points at me. “Exactly. You need something low stakes. Anonymous. No pressure. No consequences.”
“There are absolutely consequences. The consequence is I get murdered.”
“You’re not going to get murdered by textinghelloto some random accountant in the suburbs.”
“You don’t know that he’s an accountant.”
She pulls out her phone like she’s been waiting for this exact level of resistance. “Fine. We’ll make it even safer.”
“How?”
“We use a number generator.”
I stare at her.
She opens a website.
“Karina.”
“Nope.”
“This is insane.”
She starts tapping anyway. “You don’t have to say anything weird. Just something casual. Something harmless. It’s not about getting a date. It’s about proving to yourself that you can talk to someone without dying.”
