Mystery Caller

Today marks my twenty-sixth year of hanging around on this rock, and it's also the day Mark and I celebrate three and a half years of annoying each other being together. But enough about that, I want to talk about the phone call I got last night. I like to think of it as an early birthday present. Here's how the call went:
ME: Hello?
Caller: Using the slightly drunk and confused voice of your typical college puke Hi, is Abner there? [He might have said another name, it was fairly garbled.]
ME: Sorry, you've got the wrong number. Gets ready to hang up.
Caller: Wait. Who is this?
ME: Not who you were looking for. Gets ready to hang up again.
Caller: Well, you sound kinda hot.
ME: I'm married. Good-bye.

I wish I hadn't had a couple glasses of wine (Mark's early Halfiversary surprise), because then I would've been coherent enough to have had much more fun with this poor slob. I could've had said something like this, in my most seductive voice of course: "Well, you sound like a drunk twenty-year-old desperate for a one-night stand." And then I would've given him the number of the local escort service, which I actually know by heart since it was only one digit off of our old phone number (I think I've blogged about the fascinating calls we used to get due to that happy coincidence).

So I went into my 26th birthday receiving a quasi-compliment about the sexiness of my voice from a total stranger. Amusing and a little gratifying. Now off I go to pamper myself with a nice, long shower and a day of plotting for The Masque.