Forget a new haircut.  A new pair of heels.  A new attitude.  The one thing no dating girl should be without is Google Voice.  My request for a GV number was answered a week into my new adventures in Singledom and could not have come at a better time.  Though I’ve only given out the number a handful of times, its endless worth is unmistakable.  Let me count the ways.

Act I. Jamal. 29. Internet Marketing.

Jamal approached me outside of Maoz as I about to cross the street.  “Excuse me,” he says, in such a tone that I thought he was looking to walk around me, not start a conversation, so I move to the left.  As we cross the street, he looks over and says, “That was an opening to talk to you.”  A wordsmith he is not. Once we cross, he formally introduces himself, chats me up a bit and actually gets a few laughs out of me. “You seem like someone I’d like to get to know,” he says and asks for my number. Awkward opening aside, he is upbeat, confident, the owner of a killer set of dimples. I oblige and give him my number. My Google Voice number.

It doesn’t have a local NYC area code which automatically draws a raised eyebrow from him. He clears his throat and sternly says, “Hold on, let me call you so you can have my number as well.” I know what that means… “This sounds like a fake number. I want to make sure your phone rings.” Phone to his ear, he’s studying my face for a trace of deceit, as if he had busted me. My rule is this: If I don’t know you and none of my friends know you, you’re a complete stranger. Strangers get the Google Voice number. Needless to say, my phone in fact does ring. “You thought it was a fake number,” I say upon answering. “Well, it didn’t sound like a New York number…”

Later that night he calls and boy was I glad I had not let those dimples sway my judgment. Gone is the easy-going cheerful guy I had met hours before. His tone is now accusatory, investigative. He asks me why I gave him my phone number, what I was looking for a in a man, and what I felt I had to offer. Jesus Christo, tranquilla papa! I felt I was being interrogated. I decide make the convo less SVU and more Sweet Valley and ask him what he does for fun, what his hobbies are. Simple enough question, right? “I like to think everything is fun. From working, to going to the club, to having sex. Even taking a shit is fun.” I laugh out a What?! only to realize he is completely serious about what he said. He then spits my question back at me with an air of “I couldn’t care less” in his voice. To make things worse, in response to everything I say, his response is, “Hmmm.” Hmmm? I’m growing increasingly annoyed. “What are you ‘Hmmm’-ing about?” I look at the clock… 11:30pm. “Oh goodness! I totally didn’t realize what time it was,” I say ever so sweetly. “I have to wake up early tomorrow, so I’m going to say goodnight, but it was nice talking to you.” He’s silent for a second. “Hmmm. Yeah, likewise.” Another Hmmm. I rolled my eyes so hard I gave myself a headache.

He texts me a couple of days later asking if I want to go out. I wonder, if I had texted back “No.” would he have texted back “Hmmm”? Oh well, if he decides to ring me again, he will be greeted with a recording saying that my number is no longer in service. Google Voice, you are a beauty.

Oh, and regarding what he said about my number not sounding like a New York number… it’s not. It’s a Florida number. Florida to reflect my sunny personality.