Say What?

This post was submitted by TNG reader CK, who is getting his MA in the social sciences. On a given night he could be hitting hisobscene collection of social science books, piano keys, the dance floor, or local joints around U/AdMo where he lives.

The morning was great; I woke up with the added warmth of a hot male on the other side of the bed. Last night we cuddled; I held him until we both fell asleep, and I slept like Mommy Dearest. Pampered and well. When the sun shined in-between the crevices of my blinds, I reached my arm over Mr. Man and pulled him into my chest…and he bit me. My stupid cat bit me! And then I realized: I can not keep waking up with my male tabby supplanting a real man on the other side of the mattress.

Don’t get me wrong: that cat is my child, but his meow isn’t quite the same as an “I love you.” I get the feeling he’s more concerned that I keep buying tuna-flavored kibble than anything else. And have you ever felt a cat’s tongue? Ain’t no way I’d want one of those rimming my ass. No, I think a boyfriend of the human variety is more appropriate.

That was two months ago. I’ve since hunted man on the infamous site, written 2000 word Match.com profiles, checked missed connections to see who might have noticed me on the bus, but my interactions stop outside of the internet. Pathetic, right? Well, that’s what my friend tells me anyway. “You have to get out of Cyberia or you’re never going to find yo’ huuzzband.” “A picture may be worth a thousand words, but no picture is going to get you laid.” “The internet is so….ewww.”

I don’t get it DC? What’s wrong with the internet?

I think digitopia is a great place to find men; it’s Gayopolis all in one spot: on my couch while I surf. But my confidants don’t agree. To them the internet is a matured version of the old days in 1.0 chat rooms. You know the kind, where writing an “ASL?” to an entire room full of strangers was a code-word for “let’s fuck.” That was definitely not the height of cyberspace. I still shudder at the 65 year-olds masquerading as hot twinks, looking for NSA, BB, PnP fun. When you’re 16, what the hell do those acronyms mean anyway? Then again, when you’re 16, who cared?

My teenage years have left me, as have any acronym-filled desires to have one night stands, but I still think the internet is a pretty suave place. We’ve all found Mr. Right Now online, but the “ewww” feeling after the guy leaves and you’re throwing your sheets into the laundry doesn’t mean there isn’t a chance to find Mr. Right. After all, hiding behind the 2-D head shots, whichever head is being pictured, is a real person, right? A person with feelings, a brain, thoughts…a voice.

I don’t get it, DC. Where is the elusive voice? My Match.com mailbox is full of winks, and my Manhunt mailbox has every variation of “interested?” possible. Now, I’m not saying there isn’t merit in a good one-nighter, but I want my in-boxes to be full of adverbs, adjectives and alliteration, whether I’m talking to Mr. Right Now or Mr. Right. Talk to me!

My moods vary every week; sometimes I want someone in the bedroom for coital romping, the living room for cuddling over a movie, or a restaurant for dinner. Lately, no matter what I’m looking for on-line, I’ve been trying to show off some good grammar. Hey, if you can use a semi-colon properly I’d be a little more attracted to you. And you know what? I find when I replace a euphemistic “hi” with a whole sentence I actually get whole sentences back. It’s a chain reaction of literacy.

Use the voice. It’s sexy, and I think the TNG kind of reader is just the person to agree. Maybe this rant is just a rambunctious waste of digital space, but hey. DC, there is at least one of us who wants to read the lines, not just what’s in-between them.