Hey everyone, Tina here. Pull up a chair, grab a glass of whatever helps you process second-hand embarrassment, and let’s take a painful walk down memory lane.
I came across a meme today that physically attacked me. It said: “Yall remember yall use to be like ‘Call him & tell him I’m crying’ 😭😭😭.”
I didn’t just remember it. I felt it in my soul. I felt the phantom vibration of a pink Motorola Razr in my hand. I smelled the Bath & Body Works “Warm Vanilla Sugar” body mist. Most importantly, I felt the absolute, unhinged audacity we all shared back then.
The Tactical Maneuver: Why We Needed a Witness
Can we talk about the logistics of this for a second? This wasn’t just a moment of weakness; it was a coordinated tactical maneuver. When we were in the thick of a middle school or high school breakup—you know, the kind that lasted three weeks but felt like a Shakespearean tragedy—we didn’t just sit in our rooms and cry like normal people. No, we needed a witness. We needed a messenger.
I would literally be sitting on the edge of my bed, sobbing into a Pillow Pet, and I’d look at my best friend (let’s call her Sarah) and gasp out through the hiccups: “Sarah… call him. Just… just call him and tell him I’m crying.”
And the wildest part? Sarah didn’t say, “Tina, get a grip, you’re being a drama queen.” No. Sarah—a true soldier—would look at me with deadly seriousness, flip open her phone, and say, “I’m dialing him right now.”
The End Goal: What Were We Actually Thinking?
Looking back, what was the end goal? What did we think was going to happen?
- The Hollywood Ending: We genuinely believed he would hear this news, realize his life was a hollow shell without us, and sprint three miles in the rain to throw pebbles at our window.
- The Guilt Trip: We wanted him to feel like a Grade-A monster. We wanted him to be unable to eat his pizza rolls because he knew Tina was currently hydrating her carpet with tears.
- The Ego Stroke: Let’s be real. We just wanted to know he still cared enough to be bothered by our sadness.
Reality vs. Expectations: The Cringe-Inducing Call
In reality, those calls were never the cinematic masterpieces we pictured. It usually went something like this:
Friend: “Hey… it’s Sarah.”
Him: “Uh, hey. What’s up?”
Friend: (Using her most somber, funeral-director voice) “I’m just calling to let you know… Tina is literally crying right now. Like, she can’t even breathe.”
Him: “…Okay? Is she okay?”
Friend: “No. She’s devastated. I just thought you should know.”
Then there’d be that awkward silence where he didn’t know whether to apologize or hang up, while I was in the background making sure my “crying noises” were loud enough to be picked up by the microphone. It was performance art in its purest, most cringe-inducing form.
From Crying Calls to Thirst Traps
If I tried that now? If I told my best friend to call a guy and tell him I’m crying? She’d tell me to take a Benadryl, go to sleep, and stop acting like I’m 14.
We’ve traded the “tell him I’m crying” era for the “I’m going to post a thirst trap on my Instagram story and hide it from everyone except him” era. Is that better? Probably not. But at least it’s quieter. But honestly, there’s something almost sweet about that level of theatricality. We felt things so deeply back then that we needed a PR department just to handle our breakups.
So, to all the friends who actually made those calls: You are the real MVPs. You saw us at our literal worst—mascara-stained, snotty, and delusional—and you still pressed ‘send.’
Does anyone else have a specific “Call him and tell him…” story that keeps you up at night? Please tell me I wasn’t the only one doing the absolute most.