Cybertalk
Paula M Shackleford

 

Emma’s holding out her left hand, her face wreathed in smiles. We’re all gathered around her, gasping at the wonder of the ring. Not really because we think the ring is gorgeous - I wouldn’t be surprised if her other half had bought it in one of the markets on their recent trip to Blackpool, he is that type of bloke. A bargain hunter, one might say. But because we can’t believe that Derek, the guy she’s been going out with for only five months, has already proposed. He never really struck us as the committment type.
   “I can’t believe it.” Emma’s perfectly manicured (hey, you need to take care of your hands with an engagement ring - can’t have a solitaire and bitten nails mixing!) hand goes up to her mouth in an exaggerated gesture of delight, showing off the ring to further advantage. “We’re getting married at the end of the year.”
   We’re only second year uni students. Okay, so Emma is 22, more than 2 years older than most of us. But we see her as being our age, she doesn’t act more mature or anything. God, and do you know, she’s already talking about having kids! Bloody hell, talk about obsessed! You get an engagement ring, suddenly you think you are mature. I know sixteen year olds who are more mature than Emma!
   Okay, so I’m a little envious. Why should Emma have found eternal happiness when I can’t even find Mr Semi-Right? It just doesn’t seem fair, and her engagement makes me feel even more depressed about my nonexistent love life than I did yesterday. And, believe me, that is saying something. My love life - or supreme lack of a love life - has been the problem I have dwelled on the most since I was about 10. Ten years of constant angst about love makes for an extremely bitter twenty year old girl. One who can't abide the happiness of others who seem to be madly in love.
   I need to talk to someone - someone who doesn’t really know me. But who?


I log into the chat room with shaking hands. “Cool C has entered”, it announces to the others in bold black type. I see GIJoe is already there, as is Carly and Mr T. They’re other regulars to this particular room, in it as often, maybe more often, than I am. And I know that they will listen to my problems, purely because they don’t have anything better to do with their time. And they know that, if they get bored listening to my emptional mumbo-jumbo, they can just log off at any time they want!

GIJoe: “Alright, Cool, how you getting on?”
Cool C: “Not so good. My best friend just got engaged.”
A.T.: “Surely that should be a happy occasion, Cool C.”

Who is A.T.? I wonder, my forehead wrinkling. I don’t think I’ve ever met him or her. I ask he/she if they’re new to this room.

A.T.: “Yeah, it’s my first time here. I guess you could say I’m a chatroom virgin.”

That’s nothing. You could say I’m a real virgin! But I’m not going to mention that. The revealing of my problems only goes so far.

Cool C: “Don’t worry, we’ll be gentle with you. Welcome to our world!”
A.T: “Thanks Cool C. So, why are u upset about your friend getting engaged. Did she steal your man?
  
 I laugh out loud and half the students in the relatively silent computer lab, most of them busy with important research or the dreaded dissertation, turn to stare accusingly at me. Oops, I think. It’s just the idea that I would have anything to do with miserly Derek is so totally and utterly hilarious that I had to laugh. Very loudly.

Cool C: LOL, not a chance would I be involved with him EVER. Not if he was the last guy on earth. I just wish I had somebody who made me as happy as she was when she showed her engagement ring off.
A.T.: Have you never met anyone who made you feel that way?
Cool C: “I wish I had. But, nope, it’s never happened, I’m afraid. And I think that, secretly, I’m terrified it never will happen. Do you know what I mean?”
 
  I hope A.T does. No one else seems to understand, they keep telling me, “You’ll meet someone when you least expect it,” but I don’t really believe them. It’s okay for them, they’ve all got partners. And, come on, it is so easy to say placating comments like that when you yourself don’t have to worry about finding your other half anymore.

A.T.: “I know exactly what you mean. Suddenly, all my friends are in relationships and I’m just the Single One. It gets pretty depressing after a while. I mean, I don’t want to get married right now or anything, I just want to find the right person, you know?

   This A.T. is so totally on my wavelength! I check my watch and see it’s five to three. I have a lecture at three, I’m going to have to go, although I have to say that I really don’t want to by this time.

Cool C: “Will u be back here soon? It’s just I really have to go now. I usually come on here at ten on a Tuesday morning.”
A.T.: “I’ve actually got the day off uni tomorrow, but I’ll probably be on the net at home. So I might speak to you then.”
Cool C: “it was great talking to u A.T. See ya.”
A.T.: “Bye!”
Cool C has logged off.

I leave the computer lab with a smile on my face. A.T. seems pretty cool, I think to myself, idly wondering what sex he/she is. I’ll have to remember and ask that the next time we speak. It totally slipped my mind this time, I was so excited to have found someone on my wavelength.


I have been in the chatroom for 15 minutes and having a four way conversation with GIJoe, Ellie and Jon F when A.T. makes the grand entrance.

A.T.: “Cool C, u there?”
Cool C: “I am indeed. You’re a little late, are u not?
A.T.: “Sorry. Stayed up last night doing some work. So I slept in this morning. I just woke up five minutes ago. U still depressed?
Cool C: “just a little. I can’t seem to get excited about anything anymore. I just keep thinking, I need a bloke.
  
 Oooops, that sounded just a tad desperate. My fingers fairly fly over the keys in a protest of my innocence.

Cool C: “I mean, I’m not like totally desperate, I’m not going to fling myself at an ugly spotty boy just so I can say I have a boyfriend. But I would love someone special in my life. I’ve never exactly been lucky in love.
A.T.: “have you been hurt in the past?”
Cool C: “Well, I’ve never really allowed myself to get hurt. The longest relationship I’ve ever been involved in was two weeks long. And it was a holiday romance. I’m just - I guess you could call me a serial snogger.”
A.T.: “Just snogs?”
Cool C: “I’m not a tart, AT, I hope u weren’t implying that I was.”
A.T.: “Not at all. I’m sorry you thought that.”
Cool C: “I mean, sure there are guys I’ve wanted a relationship with, but they were generally the ones that din’t even want to snog me, let alone go out with me.”
A.T.: “Poor Cool C :-(
   
God, he picked up the internet language quick. Cos, in my mind, AT is undoubtedly a he. Maybe I should check.

Cool C: Male or female, AT?
A.T.: “Male, Cool C. So, you’ve never had a real relationship?
Cool C: “you could say that, yeah. I guess I’m a relationship virgin, eh?
A.T.: “LOL@Cool C. By the way, what does the C stand for?
Cool C: “Top secret classified information, can’t tell u. What does A.T. stand for?
A.T.: “I’m not telling u unless u tell me yours.”
Cool C: “well, I guess we’ll both remain in the dark then *grins*
A.T.: “I guess so.”
   
Our conversation continues until eleven when I have a seminar. I’m loathe to leave by this time because A.T. is just too much fun to talk to, but if I miss this seminar I’ll be in deep crap. So I say goodbye and leave, albeit reluctantly, telling A.T. that I won’t be back in the chatroom until Thursday lunchtime. He says he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to make it but adds “you never know, I might get lucky!”


Emma’s rambling on and on about wedding plans again. Why can’t she be one of those people who just spends all her time on the internet, researching it there, rather than using me as a soundboard? I push the remains of my roll and sausage to one side, too excited to eat.
   It’s eleven on Thursday and I’m desperate to go onto the chatrooms and talk to A.T. I’ll be so disappointed if he’s not there, so I really hope he makes it. I say a silent prayer under my breath, please let him be there, God, please.
   In the meantime, maybe I should scope out the talent in the canteen. My eyes swivel from side to side, noting a vaguely okay blond bloke, a cutish black bloke and - mmmmm.
   In the corner of the room, in the centre of a group of boys, I see the guy I’ve privately labelled My Man. Obviously, he’s not my man, I don’t even know the guy. But he’s lovely. Dark hair and eyes, very good body. As I stare, he glances up and his eyes briefly meet mine. As he sees me watching him, he lowers his head momentarily, and then turns back to the conversation he was having with one of his friends.
   “Cassie!” Emma yells in frustration, having obviously realised I am paying no attention whatsoever to her ramblings. “Stop eyeing him up and look at me.”
   The whole place turns to look at me. The only person who doesn’t thankfully, is My Man, who is (who pretends to, that is pretty obvious) looking for something in his bag. I don’t say anything but, the minute everyone goes back to chatting amongst themselves I get up, without a word to Emma, and walk as calmly as possible from the canteen, leaving her open-mouthed with shock.
   God, he is lovely, I think, my body tingling at the memory of that brief but wonderful exchange of looks. He’s so hot. I mean, I’ve obviously seen better looking people - but, like, on the TV or the big screen or in a magazine. Guys like him don’t tend to exist in real life. But he does.
   I think he’s second year too, although I can’t be sure. I know he’s been at uni as long as me, if not longer. And I’ve always had a little thing for him. Recently, however, he seems to have noticed me too. I guess he couldn’t help but do so. I always seem to be following him around with my tongue hanging out like a little puppy dog. Well, I mean, I just happen to be in the same places as him, but he probably thinks I’m his stalker or something!
   But I can't help thinking about him. Okay, I don't know the slightest thing about him - but he seems like the perfect guy to me. My perfect guy. Sometimes, when I see him, I suddenly find myself falling into a daydream where I'm with him - we are kissing, and he is the most amazing kisser I have ever had the good fortune to come across. But that is just a fantasy, and rarely have my fantasies became reality. I faced that truth a long time ago.


Cool C: “No, Iris, I’m leaving soon. I have a lecture at one.
Iris: “I’ve got to go myself, the teacher is telling me that some1 needs the computer for SERIOUS work.
   
Iris is a sixteen year old English girl, and one of the regulars in the chatroom. She seem to spend her entire school day in the computer labs, sneaking little conversations in around her real work. Occasionally, like now, she has been caught and chucked off the computer.
   Oh well, AT hasn’t turned up. Shouldn’t have got my hopes up, I guess. It’s just - well, I really wanted to talk to him again, he was so easy to talk to. Granted, I find it easier to talk to guys on the net anyway, cos I can’t see them, so have no inhibitions. But me and AT - we can talk about anything.
   I’ve just made the move to click on the Log Off button with my mouse when the screen flickers momentarily and a new sentence appears at the top of the screen.

A.T. has entered.

   Yes!

Cool C: “AT, what;s up?
A.T.: “Not a lot Cool. I’ve just been in an incredibly boring lecture. The lecturer is a right wanker - thinks he’s totally cool, and keeps swearing at us. We spend the entire lecture laughing at him.
   
So he’s a student. I thought of him as being much older than me. You know, older and wiser. I suppose he could still be. My university, for instance, has something like 45% of its students over 21.

A.T.: “You ignoring me, CC?”
Cool C: “No sorry. I was just thinking about stuff. That’s all!
A.T.: “So, how you doing?”
Cool C: “Well, my best friend just totally embarrassed me in front of a cute guy. But apart from that. . . So we’ve discussed my love life - or lack of it. How about yours?
A.T.: “Well, I’ve been pretty much single for the last two and a half years. There’s been a couple of girls I’ve seen for a week or two, then realised how phoney they actually were. And there’s a lot that I’ve met in clubs or pubs, and just kissed. But my last semi-serious relationship was when I was 17.

So, he can’t be as old as I thought, can he? But I don’t want to interrupt to ask his age. He didn’t interrupt my stories with silly questions. And I want to know more about him. It helps me to form a clearer mental image of him.

Cool C: “Tell me about it.”
A.T.: “Her name was Jessica. She was a year younger than me, and lived next door to me. We went out for six months. Eventually, I discovered that she was two timing me with a much older bloke - you know, like 19 or something! lol. She’d been acting distant for a while, so I guess I’d kind of expected it in a way . . .”
Cool C: “But u still weren’t prepared for the truth, right?”
A.T.: “Exactly. I walked around in total shock for about a fortnight after we broke up. I was so hurt, and I just couldn’t bounce back from it. Even now, 2 and a half years on, I can’t bring myself to trust girls. I guess that’s why my relationships have been so short ever since.
Cool C: “Don’t you see anyone that you’d like to be with?”
A.T.: “Yeah. I have my eye on a girl actually. She’s lovely. But I don’t know her, and I don’t know whether or not she’s single, and I definitely don’t know if she likes me back. Now you . . ."
Cool C: “Me?”
A.T.: “I wish u weren’t on the end of another computer, I wish u were here right now. I have a feeling I could easily fall for you."
   
My fingers, which have been hovering over the keys poised to answer whatever he said, drop onto my lap. This isn't right, I think, staring at the bold words, my heart sinking much more rapidly than Titanic. He can't fixate on me, just because I'm not really real for him, I don't exist in his world. Just as I can't fixate on him as a substitute for a real live guy. Because, if I am to be truthful with myself, I had been falling for him too, thinking how perfect he would be for me . . .

A.T.: “CC?”
   
I couldn't let it go on. I had to leave, to sort out my head. Okay, so I'm totally overreacting but, hell, I’d only known the guy something like three days. And, when push comes to shove, I really don't know him, as such. I hurriedly type in a reply.

Cool C: “Sorry A.T., I’ve got to go now. Someone wants this computer to type out an essay or something! See ya tomorrow maybe."
Cool C has logged off.

   I stare blankly at the screen for a long time, watching as the conversation continues on without me there. Debi, a 19 year old from Essex, tries to chat up A.T. but he claims he has a class to get to, and also logs off. After this, I stand up, sling my bag over my shoulder and walk, zombie-like, from the room.


On Friday morning I’m still confused by what happened, I can’t concentrate in any of my lectures or seminars. Eventually, we are let out of a lecture early and I have ten minutes in which to recover myself. Thank God, I think to myself , sighing in relief. Double lectures are bad enough as it is, without going through a crisis simultaneously, you know?
   I decide to go outside, I urgently need some air. I sit down on the low wall just outside the main doors, and dig through my bag for my bottle of Irn Bru and pop it open, ignoring its defiant fizz as it tries to escape the bottle before it has to go in my mouth.
   Okay, so I’m majorly overreacting. But I can’t help it. That’s one of my main troubles. I used to make friends with guys, and we’d get on really well. But if someone told me that the guy in question fancied me. . . well, I’d be out of that friendship faster than you can say “no longer platonic”. I don’t know why - that’s just always the way it has been for me. I wish it didn’t happen, but it does.
   Several guys come outside and cluster around the door, rubbing their hands together to make them warmer, and then lighting up fags with shaking fingers. I’m not really paying attention to their conversation, but I hear them talking about some essay that is due in the following day, that one or two of them haven’t even made a start on. Then the ones who have still to do their essay start talking about their plans for that night - which do not include the desperately needed essay writing.
   Okay, so I’m actually blatantly eavesdropping - prevents me from thinking about my own troubles - but I’m staring into space, pretending to be thinking about my own troubles.
   “Excuse me?” My gaze swivels abruptly towards the guys. Are they talking to me? They are.
   “Yeah?” I mumble, my face flushing as I realise the guy who is talking to me is My Man. Close up he is absolutely beautiful.
   “I don’t suppose you have the time?” he asks, his face cool. His voice is husky and unbelievably sexy, sending shivers down my spine.
   I fumble for my wrist and squint at my watch. “Just gone one o’clock,” I croak, looking back up at him.
   God, there is something I’ve always found so inherently cool about smoking. I must be the only person who actually tried to get addicted to smoking - unfortunately, I couldn’t seem to ever get past the smoking-a-couple-of-fags-and-then-puking stage. To me, the smoking part only adds to this particular guy’s attraction.
   He exhales, his dark eyes narrowing against the smoke. “Thanks,” he says as the smoke clears. Our eyes hold for a moment and then he smiles, his lovely lips curling upwards and doing terrible things to my insides.
   “My pleasure,” I whisper. I’m glad his friends aren’t paying attention, they might have remembered me from Emma’s little scene yesterday and started slagging me off. Before they can start to notice, I stand up and hurry back inside.


On Friday afternoon, I have non-stop lectures until four o’clock, but I’ve decided I’ll go into the chatroom then. After all, A.T. isn’t likely to hang about unnecessarily on a Friday afternoon, is he?
   At four, I check in a computer lab, see a couple of free computers, and hurry over to one.
   The chatroom is addictive you know. I don’t know what it is about it, maybe it’s the fact you could be talking to anybody, from anywhere. I’ve made so many new friends through this medium. I desperately need to persuade my mother to get the internet at home, I vow.

Cool C has entered.

   I check the names appearing on the screen. A.T. doesn’t seem to be there. Phew!

Cool C: “Hey all!”
GIJoe: “Cool C> U OK?”
Cool C: “Yup, I am. U?”
GIJoe: “I’m fine.”

   All the conversations seem quite crap now though, compared to the ones I had with A.T. before. I mean, we talked about so much, our love lives, our families (both products of broken homes), our religious beliefs (both Catholics), our friends - and we’d only met on Monday. We’d only talked for about a total of two hours all together.

A.T.: “CC> Can we talk?”
Cool C: “Where did u appear from?”
A.T.: “I was hoping you would turn up. I’ve been here ten minutes, I was just about to give up.”
A.T.: “Did I freak you out yesterday? I’m sorry, it’s just you seem so nice, so on my wavelength . . . I guess I got carried away. I’m sorry. Would u like to forget it happened?”
   
The more I think about it, the more reasonable what he said sounded. After all, he never said he was in love with me, he just said it would be easy to fall for me. And I’m sure what he meant by that was if I was really in his life, sitting next to him, real and tangible - that then he could maybe fall for me. So I think that a apology is in order from me.

Cool C: “No. It was a really sweet thing to say, and I totally overreacted. I’m the one who should be sorry. Do u know what I realised though? I don’t know the most basic stuff about u.
   
God, he can’t say he could fall in love with me when I don’t know his age, where he’s from. Where he studies. . .

A.T.: “What would u like to know?”
Cool C: “a/l, perhaps?”
A.T.: “Ok, that’s easy enough. 20 / nr Glasgow.
   
Oh God. We must be so close.

Cool C: “Hey! Me too! Where do u study?”
   
He sounds like a Glasgow Uni student. Or maybe Strathclyde I suppose.

A.T.: “Glasgow Caley.”
   
Oh. My. God. Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod. This cannot be happening.

Cool C “Are u there right now?”
A.T: “Yeah, why?”
   
My entire body is trembling, this cannot be happening. The guy is here, at my uni. Maybe. He could be at the other campus.

Cool C: “What campus? What lab?”
A.T: “What’s going on?”
   
I have a subtle glance at the people nearest me. No. they aren’t on the chatroom.

Cool C: “Just tell me. Please.”
   
I hold my breath, waiting desperately for his reply. Moments later I get his answer and I double check it over and over again, hardly believing what is happening. Is this real?
   My breath is coming in short sharp labs. He is, unbelievably, in the computer lab next door. I can meet him. Do I want to?
   Of course I do.
   I mean, there’s a lot of problems with this. He may be ugly, he may be the guy on my course that I can’t stand, he may be a female even. But this is my chance to meet a guy who I’ve effectively shared my life with, someone who could turn out to be a true friend.

Cool C: “Go into the corridor, A.T. and turn right. Don’t ask me why, just do it.”
A.T: “Ok.. I’m going now.”
   
I reach into my bag for my compact and check my face. Just about passable. I run my brush over my hair. Then I stand up and walk towards the door.
   Loads of people have gone home, being the time that it is. The corridor is pretty much deserted. There is a guy leaning outside the door of the next door lab.
   “A.T?” I ask quietly, nervously.
   He whirls to face me and my jaw drops as I clock who it is. It is My Man.
   “Cool C?” he replies, looking even more surprised than I feel. I can feel myself becoming shy again, the way I am outside the chatroom, and I have to force myself to speak.
   “Cassandra Matthews.” I hold out my hand. “And you are?”
   “Aaron Taylor.” he takes the extended hand in his. At his touch, my shyness instantly evaporates. “I can’t believe it’s you,” he adds, placing great emphasis on the you. That tells me a lot - that he remembers me, that he’s noticed me.
   “Disappointed?” I ask, coyly. I hope I’m not misjudging the situation. But there is the matter of our hands being entwined long after the supposedly brief handshake.
   He starts to laugh and I wonder what the hell is so funny. Is the idea of him saying he could fall in love with me so preposterous, I wonder, feeling my face fall several miles.
   “Sorry, he gasps between laughs, obviously noticing my expression and eager to rectify the situation. “I was just thinking - how ironic it was - that I told Cool C I could easily fall for her . . .”
   “And?” If he’s going to reject me, I wish he would just get it over with.
   Just as suddenly as he started laughing, he sobers up and looks at me with serious dark eyes. “I told Cool C there was a girl I was interested in, remember?” I nod. “Well, I meant you, Cassandra.”
   Everything is okay now. Better than okay, in fact. I smile at him, overwhelmed with a mixture of relief and - has to be said! - lust. He returns the smile and asks me if I want to go and grab a bite to eat. I agree, naturally. It’s not every day the guy of your dreams asked you out.
   And, the way I figure it, I’ll never have to go through the whole awkward phase of being too afraid to say the “L” word. After all, he already pretty much told me he loved me, didn’t he?
   “We’d better go back to our labs and log off, don’t you think?” I remember suddenly.
   He runs a hand through his hair and I smile secretly as I notice something. “Yeah, we’d better,” he agrees. “See you in a minute.” He lets go of my hand and turns away, but not before bestowing a totally adorable smile on me. I hurry back to my computer, where there is still conversation continuing without us. I sit down at the computer, warmth spreading through my body as I think of Aaron, sitting next door, looking at the same screen.

Cool C: “Aaron?”
A.T.: “Yeah Cassie, i’m here.”
Cool C: “I need to tell u something that i noticed before.”
A.T.: “What was that, C?”
   
I smile at the memory, thinking of the way the cuff of his shirt slipped slightly as he touched his hair. And then, eager to log off and go back to seeing Aaron in person, I quickly type my reply.

Cool C: “You’re wearing a watch!”

 

 

Copyright © 2000 Paula M Shackleford
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"