A Missed Opportunity for Depravity While convalescing from the flu one night this weekend, I decided to see what interesting experiences could be had in the world of online chat. For a uninitiated, I highly recommend chatting as a means of assaying the composition of the computer-using public. In only a few minutes, one can easily see that these powerful machines are no longer just in the hands of a minority intelligentsia. A good friend introduced me to Chat as a means for us to communicate long-distance about the online zine we're developing. This man, who cheerfully relates his endless and mostly fruitless quest for female companionship with candor that astonishes me, first told me to meet him in the "romance" section of a popular chat service, where he had been spending some time lately. He reported having chatted with some interesting people of all ages and backgrounds there. As yet, sadly, it hasn't delivered a relationship, which is probably a good thing for me because I fear his time commitment to the zine may plummet when a woman strolls onto his life stage. [1] So it was with a keen sense of adventure that I clicked the box that would make me available for chat while online yesterday. It wasn't long before the first potential conversational partner popped up. I immediately suspected that all was not on the up-and-up. Gender-swithching and misrepresentation seem quite common in the anonymity of the chatroom -- it's part of the allure of online relationships. In the following exchange, I urge you to note not only the ridiculous behavior of my visitor, but also the inanity of my responses. TommyGirl: are you horny? me: Uh, that depends on whom I'm talking to. TommyGirl: blond, female, 21, I'm a black belt in TKD me: A black belt! I don't know that many black belts. TommyGirl: does it intimidate you? me: Absolutely. It really scares me. But in a nice way. You're really a boy, aren't you? TommyGirl: I'm a real woman. Why, are you a woman? me: No, I'm a guy. If you're a woman, prove it. TommyGirl: I'm rubbing my clitoris as we speak. me: Well, THAT proves it. TommyGirl: Prove you're a man. me: I'm rubbing the clitoris nature has given me as we speak. Who are you really? TommyGirl: Your mom. me: Cool, mom is a babe. But I don't go in for older women. TommyGirl: fine, forget it me: I've never had a woman approach me with the line "are you horny?" TommyGirl: you've never had a real woman. me: That's possible, but you're not a real woman. TommyGirl: forget it and fuck you me: See ya later, fella! After TommyGirl vanished, I wondered whether I had handled it poorly. Maybe I should have gone along with the deception. After all, the anonymity that makes it possible is a cornerstone of the chat world. Chat enthusiasts may tell me that they build thriving communities online, that they chat because it's an anonymous environment in which people listen to ideas without the stereotypes of appearances. That's probably true, and the moronic chatter of the TommyGirls out there is a sign that the chatroom is an unfettered free-speech environment. To participate fully is to indulge in the limitless potential of a new medium for human relationships. TommyGirl would probably have ended up taking out her (his) numchucks and whacking the shit out of me in an erotic kind of way. And the whole sensual coupling would unfold slowly, tediously, with the sluggishness of hunt-and-peck typists, furtive messages passed back and forth like two kids whispering naughty things through a tin-can telephone. 1 - I would be remiss if I didn't mention that my friend just put out a new CD, and that you can listen to some of his original tracks here.