Before Lauren Leto moved to SoHo last month, her impression of New York came from the more than 15,000 text messages she scrolls through daily as part of her job as co-founder of TextsFromLastNight.com — a Web site that chronicles the wildest, most ridiculous texts you never remember sending.
So . . . did Manhattan finally live up to the hype of texts like “The bartender wouldn’t serve you because you kept asking for ‘a slice of beer,’ ” “Umm, I had a plastic mermaid in my pants” and “OMG. Drunk”?
“It’s even crazier,” admits the 23-year-old behind the Web site (commonly called TFLN), which was launched in February 2009 and now enjoys 4.5 million page views a day. “It’s a lot more depraved. It’s a lot more wild. I guess our site is just the tip of the iceberg.”
Anyone can anonymously submit texts they’ve either received or sent themselves to TFLN. The site gets the greatest number of texts at 11 a.m. — what Leto and her co-founder Ben Bator call “confessional time” — from people wanting to document the depravity and insanity of their adventures from the night before.
Of the 15,000 texts submitted daily, only 30 make the cut.
“TFLN is like an anonymous Twitter feed,” Leto says. “It gives insight to the private triumphs and mistakes behind everyone’s 2 a.m. adventures.”
In just over a year, TFLN has become an international phenomenon. Last month, the site reached 1 billion total views — ranking twice as high in US traffic as timeout.com — and has spawned a new book, T-shirts, and a TV show developed by Adam Sandler’s production company slated for FOX’s fall lineup.
The site’s success reflects a national explosion: The number of text messages sent per person increased almost 50 percent last year, according to the CTIA, the wireless telecommunications industry’s international association.
New Yorkers make up nine percent of TFLN visitors, and there’s a certain special signature to Manhattan texters, says co-founder Bator — who, like Leto, gave up law school at Wayne State University to focus on the booming site full-time. What is that signature? Think: intensity and severe impatience.
“Texting is great because you get to the point quickly,” says Bator, who splits his time between Detroit and Los Angeles. “But in New York, it’s hyper to the point. It’s like, ‘Are we doing this or not?’ It’s more of a social dance everywhere else, like you’re courting. But in New York it’s like, ‘Are you going to waste my time or are you going to come over?’ ”
Absolutely, says 28-year-old John Munson, who checks the site first thing each morning and submits frequently. He learned this painful lesson firsthand when he failed to recognize the shorthand a hot 20-year-old girl was sending him.
“I got a text that said, ‘DTF?’ I had no idea what that meant at all. Then I found out it meant, ‘Are you down to fornicate?’ I texted her the next day and said, ‘I just now realized what this means.’ And she said:
‘Too late.’ I believe she spelled ‘too’ with the number 2.”
Highlighting every hilarious misadventure of young people around the country is the main part of the site’s appeal, says 28-year-old Lower East Side clothing publicist Steven Rojas, who regularly submits texts to TFLN. “People in their 20s want to document everything,” he says. “Hence, why Twitter, Facebook, all these sites are so popular. I think we love ourselves.”
Plus, there’s the exquisite comedy of the “emotional meltdown by text message” being documented nightly, says Chinatown deejay and actor Jonny Sollis, 26. “After you’ve been working or deejaying, you’re not paying attention. And then out of nowhere you’ll see an ex-girlfriend, and the next day you look at your phone, and it’s like you’ve sent 16 text messages,” he says. “It’s like, really? Sixteen? Not just two?”
The site is also reassuring. No matter how bleak your life looks, you’re still doing all right compared to people who sent texts like: “Just woke up face down in my kitchen covered in Cheetos; my mom just stepped over me,” and “Awesome morning. I just met my boyfriend’s wife.” (Both texts were actually submitted to the site.)
“It validates my adulthood,” says 25-year-old West Village resident and editor Eiseley Tauginas about TFLN. “It makes me feel more put together.”
Perhaps the best texting lessons come from what not to do. In fact, self-described “gadabout” Munson says one of his greatest texting hits was accidentally forwarding a message seven times to a potential 65-year-old business client at 5:30 a.m. that read, “You need to come over immediately. Naked tomfoolery will ensue.”
When he finally had the meeting, nothing was said about the text message.
“It didn’t come up — but the deal didn’t happen,” Munson says. “I don’t know if those two things are related.”
OTHER TOP REGRET TEXTS:
Here are some of our favorite New Yorker “Texts From Last Night” via the site’s new book and Web site:
(347): I knew you were gonna be a good wingman when the words “dibs on the chunky one” came out of your mouth.
(212): I just applied for an unsubsidized loan naked. I love the Internet.
(212): I hate this light. I wouldn’t even hook up with me in this light.
(212): I just saw a woman parallel park a horse. Awesome. Only in New York.
(212): Btw, your gf is going to want to talk to you today . . . and consequently you’re probably not going to want to talk to me . . . just a heads up.
(212): Guess who was drunk and crawling in the middle of the road and got brought home by the police last night? HINT: ME.
(718): You hooked up with 4 random girls, avoided your girlfriend finding out about it, and dodged traffic on Park Ave. Can you say luck of the Irish?
(718): Did the hipsters beat you up because you are more ironic than they are?
(718): You took a scissor and started screaming “I WANNA KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE BALD.”
(212): I want to see a picture of the girl worth ruining our relationship for.
(917): Someone just puked in the library. They put up caution tape. I totally underestimated finals week.
(917): My milkshake brings 85 to 90 percent of the boys to the yard.
(212): Chick I’m bringing home just asked our cab driver if she could do a line off his turban. I think I’m in love — or trouble.
(212): Her voice is like 435,765 daggers being simultaneously twisted into my eardrum.
(718): At the bar dressed as a taco. Not a typo. Come down.
(203): There r dinosaurs outside my house I hear them.
(718): I went to check the drunk texts I sent last night but my phone deleted them already. Even my phone is ashamed.
(718): No, I didn’t make it. Instead, I watched VH1 for…13 hours? I use the question mark because I was using Flavor Flav’s clocks to tell time after the first 3 hours.
(718): OMG. Drunk. (662): I’m so glad you fill me in on these things. (718): Sorry. Must’ve been trying to Twitter.
(917): Last night I told the bartender I only have 3 days left to live so I wouldn’t have to pay for drinks. (917): This morning I woke up with nothing but a pair of what I believe are fairy wings on — and the bartender in my bed. (917): He thinks I’ll be dead by Monday and still came home w me…WTF? (718): Messed up. What color are the wings?
(917): You wouldn’t come out from under your bed because you said there were six-armed bears everywhere. (720): Ohhh that explains the pepperonis I found in my sock drawer this morning… (917): No it doesn’t.
(917): We ran out of wine so you tried to make some by throwing grapes and nail polish remover in a blender.
(917): I was pretty stoned. I thought I needed a seatbelt at the restaurant.
(917): You know you were way too high when you wake up next to a handwritten list of all the things you’d do for a Klondike bar.
(917): Omg. I had the wrong window open and I accidentally posted my credit card # on Twitter. (310): What’s your Twitter name?