Plastic Fantastic Lovers

My ex and I had been separated for awhile, but weren't yet divorced, and I wasn't ready to date, so chatting was perfect for me at that time. Chatting on the net, in the evenings, after my kids were asleep, seemed a safe and harmless way to have some contact with other adults. I always went to the same adult chat room. I'd made quite a few friends, and there was always someone new trying to figure out what was going on, so I was usually completely engaged by just staying in the main room. Sometimes I had private conversations, but the group in the main room was lively and fun, and that's where the action seemed to be. I noticed that sometimes although friends' names would show up in the room, they would be strangely silent, not participating in the dialogue, but I just thought they were away from their computers and had forgotten to click, "I'm away from my computer". (Yes, I still am that gullible.)

It's hard to explain what a talented, funny group of people had found their way to that room for a couple of months that fall. Everyone had a role, and you'd come in and be greeted enthusiastically, and jump right in. It's what I imagine it must be like being part of a team writing a sit com. I've never encountered anything remotely similar again.

However, even after being a regular for several weeks, I remained blissfully unaware of the meaning of "Adult Chat Room" until one night when I was chatting with G, and he said, casually, "You know, there are pictures on this site of some of the people in this room." "Really?" I said. "Wow, I'd love to see pics of some of the people we chat with!" He told me how to access the pics.

Oh my.

After about half an hour, he private messaged me. "What do you think?" he asked, laughing. "You are SO bad!" I said. "Well, you already knew that, though," he said, still laughing.

Of course, because it was an adult chat room, many times when I'd been in the room I'd been private messaged by guys asking if I wanted to have cybersex. I'd always said no, but the truth was, I didn't have any idea what cybersex was, and it seemed like one of those things that I should have already known, with the result that I was too embarrassed to ask anyone to explain it. I couldn't even bring myself to ask G about it; I knew he'd tease me.

Sooooooo...one Friday night when I was home alone, listening to Jefferson Airplane's Surrealistic Pillow as I chatted, and a very articulate guy who was a stranger to the room pm'd me and asked me if I wanted to have cybersex with him, I asked him outright: What is that, exactly? He explained. He also said that he was in his 20's; a student working on an MFA in writing, and he seemed bright and was definitely articulate...the perfect Plastic Fantastic Lover, I thought. Feeling adventuresome, I said OK.

"What are you wearing?" he said. I'd just come from the gym, and I answered honestly. I said, "I'm wearing a grey leotard and grey leggings..." He said, "Mmmmmmmmm, I'm kissing you, ohhhhhhh, you feel soooo good...I'm removing your leotard..." He paused abruptly. He cleared his throat. He said, "Errrrrr...um....I've never actually removed one of those...I don't have a clue how you women get into 'em, and I can't even imagine how you get out of 'em...you're gonna have to help me out here." Suddenly I felt like Mrs. Robinson seducing Benjamin...and I know this is bad, but I couldn't help it...I began to laugh.

I apologized for laughing, and told him I was sorry, but I just couldn't do it after all.

I signed out of the room for the evening, and turned off the computer. In the background, Gracie Slick continued to belt it out: Don't you want somebody to love, don't you need somebody to love, wouldn't you love somebody to love, you'd better find somebody to love...