An image captured only in a photograph. A voice heard only through electronic words. A touch never experienced, yet imagined. An aroma, thought of as second to none, yet still not enjoyed. This is the woman in the cyberspace universe known to me, only as her.
Across the vast expanse of unknown spaces and heavily traveled airwaves comes the unmistakable message of a woman in search, in want. At times she thinks she knows what she needs. Then at other times she questions what she wants. Her basic instincts tell her what she is involved in is wrong, but she wants to go deeper, but not too deep.
She is unafraid to bare her soul to the unknown figure-head at the other end of her pleas and queries. Yet she draws back when in-depth requests are made for her to bare even more of herself. She gives pause to some of the inquiring thoughts coming from her benefactor. Later she disregards them altogether.
Yet, she persists in asking the driving, intoxicating questions of what must she do. Then she resists acceptance of the passive response and the innocuous answers. She wants to know how to handle sexually specific situations but she hardens at the sexually specific responses she gets in return.
She cautiously describes, in wide, expansive terms, her personal situation that gives her doubt. The picture portrayed is hazy and unclear as to detail. Her words show us that she thinks she is telling all, when indeed, she is only referring to general activity and pleasure. The details of her plight are never described yet she calls for details in her answers.
The woman is clear enough to give rise to sexual sensitivity and life in the heart of the one she is asking for help. Yet, when her benefactor requests more, more of her to paint his own mental picture clearer, she resists, she faults, she draws back. Her problem must be real, because she persists in her pleas. She is either too ashamed, or too shy to fully reveal her sexual dilemma. Without the reveal, there can be no resolution.
The miles between us protect her from any personal touch or encounter, but the closeness of her situation demands explicit details. Still she cannot bring herself to fully describe the incident with which she requires assistance. What is her real problem? What is the real cause of this search for answers?
My involvement in her emotional/sexual problem solving, has left me with my own personal void. Reading her words of excitement and responding with my own words of passion, has brought me to a point of unrequited admiration.
Do I have the right to lust after an electronic image that speaks to me only through the written word and images on a screen? I don’t know right or wrong, I just know she has captured my eyes and my thoughts. Without the privilege of being at her side, I place her in front of me in my thoughts. I fear what I might do with or to those thoughts, but I have no choice, that is all I have.
I hesitate to reveal my entire mind for it would disclose a collection of ideas that may chase her away, never again to shadow my screen with her queries. Her absence, I cannot afford, nor tolerate; she must be there for my escape. I will be there for her safety, her shelter in a storm, her personal sounding board.
As time goes on we shall see how this electronic experience treats us both. Will she bare her entirety to me? Will I offer useful direction and guidance? Will we both prosper from this fleeting moment, or will we both suffer? Time is yet to tell. Until the end is in sight I shall enjoy the thrill her words give me and will continue to respond in a manner I hope will not drive her away. The one major flaw to this encounter is feelings and emotions can burn high, with the possibility of never being able to extinguish them.
At this time she is my thrill, she is my morning, she is my evening. I cling to the few frail segments of her entity I have access to. I know her, yet she is a stranger. She is in my dreams and in my thoughts. I wish her only the best but pray I am part of her wish.
Such is the fraility of the internet. This is the flaw in attempting any such “Internet dating.” Never being able to truly know who is on the other end until it is too late. Yet, we succomb to the words and the suggestive phrasing. Real? Imaginary? Never to know until we have committed, until it is too late.