What Do You Do When You Get a Wrong-Number Text?
By Christopher Sopher
Valley of the Sun Press – Good Life Column
November 22, 2025
We’ve all gotten them —
those weird little pings from the universe that land in your inbox with the wrong tone, the wrong name, the wrong damn person entirely.
Wrong-number texts.
Sometimes they’re harmless.
Sometimes they’re confusing.
And sometimes… they’re a little too interesting for their own good.
I’ve switched phone numbers more than once, mostly because I didn’t want certain people having access to my old line. When you get a recycled number, you inherit a ghost town of other people’s mistakes. And trust me — I’ve inherited all of them.
Every kind of message you can imagine:
“Hey man you got any oxy?”
“Yo you holding?”
“Where’s my weed?”
No thank you.
Block. Delete. Next.
Other times, it’s strangely heartfelt:
A family texted me once that a newborn was safe and healthy. They were genuinely trying to reach someone important. I responded back, gently, because there was human emotion behind that one. “I’m sorry, you’ve got the wrong number.” And they thanked me. They were trying to find him.
There’s a line — when you respond, and when you don’t.
So that brings me to today.
A message pops up on my phone out of nowhere:
“Let’s have steak together tonight.”
Now listen —
who the hell says no to steak?
Not me.
So I reply:
“I don’t know who this is, but that sounds like a great plan.” 😁
I figured that would be the end of it.
Nine times out of ten, wrong-number people apologize and vanish.
Not this time.
I get back:
“This is Sophia. Isn’t this Anna’s number?”
Seems harmless enough.
So I reply — keeping it light:
“No, this is Sopher, in Phoenix, Arizona.”
And here’s where my EQ kicks in.
I don’t respond like a lonely person — because I’m not.
I respond like an observer — because I am.
I’m an intriguing guy. I like to understand people. I like to see how they move.
Most people, after realizing they texted the wrong number, say a quick “oops, thanks,” and disappear forever.
But this woman didn’t disappear.
She stayed.
“Sorry, Sopher, I changed my hand and wrote the number wrong. Hope I didn’t disturb your happy weekend.” 😁😂
Okay. She’s friendly. Warm.
So I continue the banter — and sprinkle in my breadcrumbs. Humor. Personality. Small signals that real people pick up.
“My only regret is that I’m not having steak with you tonight — that invite sounded perfect.” 😄
Normally, a real woman responds to humor.
They pick it up.
They play with it.
They spark.
But she didn’t comment on it.
Not a giggle.
Not a “ha!”
Nothing.
Interesting.
Then she says:
“If you are in Los Angeles, I invite you to have a steak dinner with me.” 😅☺️
Now hold up.
Nobody just invites a stranger from Phoenix to LA for steak out of nowhere.
It sounds too good to be true — and if I’ve learned anything from the past few years of online dating?
If it’s too good to be true, it probably is.
And that lesson never misses.
Still — I’m curious, not desperate.
So I keep playing the game to see what unfolds. That’s how you learn people.
I reply:
“I spent time in LA a few years ago — Venice Beach and Marina del Mar. If I’m back that way, I’ll keep your invite in mind. I like your energy. I’ve never had a moment like this… kind of rare, no pun intended.” 😁😄😂
That’s when things start to shift.
Here’s the thing:
My humor is a test.
A breadcrumb.
A signal.
A real woman catches it.
Matches it.
Smiles at it.
Responds to the vibe.
But again — nothing.
No reaction.
No tease.
No warmth back.
Just… silence on every breadcrumb I dropped.
That’s a red flag.
Not because of rejection — I don’t care about that.
But because it means the person isn’t actually reading me.
And that’s when the message comes:
“This is my work phone. My assistant uses it. Do you use Telegram or WhatsApp?”
And just like that —
snap.
The perfect little vibe evaporates.
My gut twists.
My intuition flips on.
The warmth dies.
And I know instantly:
This isn’t a woman from Canada.
This isn’t a 37-year-old in LA.
This isn’t “Sophia.”
This is a script.
This is a scam pattern.
This is the moment when the universe says:
“Okay, the fun part’s over. Time to see if you’re awake.”
And I am.
Because I’ve been through online dating since 2021.
I’ve seen this shit too many times.
Crypto scams.
Fake profiles.
Emotional hooks.
Telegram and WhatsApp invitations.
Broken-English templates.
The whole damn playbook.
And today?
My EQ caught the energy shift before my brain even processed it.
So I ended it.
Clean.
Calm.
Unbothered.
“Goodbye.”
Blocked.
Done.
No harm.
No heartbreak.
No problem.
Just another fascinating moment in the strange digital world we all live in now —
where a simple “Let’s have steak” can be either a human connection or a trap.
But here’s the truth:
It never bothers me.
Because I’m not looking.
I’m observing.
And in the middle of a peaceful afternoon, sitting in my chair with my pug on my lap, ordering groceries… I got a little adventure.
A moment of curiosity.
A test of intuition.
A reminder that my instincts are sharp.
A story worth telling.
So what do you do when you get a wrong-number text?
You listen.
You watch.
You feel the energy.
And you decide whether it’s human, or something pretending to be.
This one?
It pretended well —
but not well enough for me.
Because deep down?
I always know when something doesn’t sit right in my gut.
Everything is flowing —
the banter, the curiosity, the playfulness —
until suddenly the entire tone flips sideways:
“This is my work phone.
My assistant uses it.
Do you use Telegram or WhatsApp?”
And that’s where the story stops.
Right there.
Because in that moment,
the warmth disappears,
the humor disappears,
the human energy disappears,
and the whole thing collapses into a template.
No analyzer needed.
No second guessing.
The gut already knows:
This isn’t real.
And instead of dragging it out,
instead of trying to revive something that died mid-sentence,
I ended it the only right way:
“Goodbye.”
Blocked.
Done.
End of story.
Perfectly aligned with what she did —
she dropped the Telegram line
and that was her “exit.”
So I matched it.
Conversation over.
The story closes right there.
Because when someone switches their energy that fast…
you don’t continue.
You walk away.
Reminder to stay safe:
This is a reminder to stay safe and stay aware. Scammers are out there, and they’ll try new ways to trick and deceive you. Never move a conversation to a third-party app like Telegram or whatever they suggest, because once you connect on their terms, it’s easier for them to control the situation.
If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.
Stop for a moment, reflect, and ask yourself:
Is this real or is this fake?
Stay safe.
— Chris
