Digital Whore

It occurs to me that “Digital Whore” would make an awesome erotica story title. If that’s what you came here for, I hate to disappoint, but this is non-fiction.

And sadly without the necessary erotic elements.

Mostly.

In my search for how to write a romance novel, I also began (somewhat unintentionally) doing a search for how to actually find romance, and with the end of yet another relationship, I have found myself somewhat suddenly over-inundated with options. My Tinder cue is filling up very quickly, and I’ve made quite a few more than just friendly acquaintances on Twitter, though all the people of interest have been from out of town. In both situations.

Who’s up for a road trip?

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Seriously, though. Other than the Republican idiot that I decided not to go out with the other day, of the men who’ve seriously been messaging me, none of them have been in town. Most of them aren’t even in the same state!

And while that might not be a big deal if you’re in a small state like Delaware, It takes up to 10 hours to get out of Texas, depending on which direction you’re going and where you start.

So, the question is, how attached can I really get with these guys? Better yet, how attached are they really going to get with me?

I know that most of the men I’ve met in Texas have been after just one thing, but living several states away kind of makes that impossible. At least not to the frequency which I require, or as quickly as most guys would like.

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And so I find myself talking to these guys, and being a bit flirtier, more forward than I might normally be, because it’s nothing more than fantasy. Inevitably it leads to them telling me the same thing that others have: I’m fun. I’m inviting. I’m exciting. We click…

Somehow, me just being me and being open and inviting and a more than a little bit flirty has convinced no less than 5 men that we click in the short span of time since the Bartender made his exit.

I guess we click… Some more than others, but they all say the same thing. And they all seem to need it to be a special thing just for them.

There is this distinct feeling of openness that I seem to give off, or that they seem to want from me. People have always felt they can open up to me and talk to me about anything. This somehow makes me special. And somehow, it makes people think that I think they are special as well…

And attention whore that I am, I let them feel that way because I don’t want them to go away.

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I want, as much as they do, to believe that it is a special connection between us because I crave that connection. I crave the feeling that I belong to someone, and that they can love me as I am.

So I end up giving into the fantasy for them. Even though I know I won’t ever meet them, and that they can’t love me because I’m still nothing but a fantasy, I play to the fantasy. I digitally pimp my heart out… and from time to time the image of myself as well… so that I can belong to someone. If even for a moment.

Does it make me a bad person? Am I leading them on? I don’t know. Maybe they’re doing the same thing, too. And so what does that say about the society that we live in today when we’re more comfortable with a virtual fantasy than a physical reality?

I don’t think I’m the only digital whore out there.

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There’s this freedom that comes with being online, being anonymous, that allows us to feel free to fulfill the fantasy. And I don’t mean sexually. I don’t go around parading images of my goodies all around the internet, though there are plenty of people (male and female and other) who do.

I just mean that it’s too easy to allow ourselves to be comfortable in the idea of being close to someone when they are farther away.

It’s more of an emotion whore than anything else. It’s pimping out the feeling of a relationship, because it is only fantasy, whether I want it to be fantasy or not, there can be no reality with that level of distance.

One of the gentlemen who has been speaking to me did offer to “send for me,” as in to bring me to where he lives, for the sole purpose of a sexual encounter because he liked my eyes in my Twitter AVI. He began speaking to me of his dark fantasies, of which several were very dark and a teensy bit scary. When I told him I thought he said these sort of things to all the women he meets online, he told me that no, he could just tell that I could handle his “darkness…”

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And I can… for a fantasy. Something that will never become reality? Sure, I can handle that. I’m accustomed to people telling me things I have no business hearing or knowing, so it’s not a problem to listen, or read, about someone’s dark desires.

If it’s something not too terribly strange, I can even imagine playing along, because I do have a healthy appetite for some of the more carnal delights. So merrily we message back and forth of naughty things, and actual personal things, sharing ourselves in an earnest, heartfelt way. For a fantasy.

But I’m tired of the fantasy. I’m tired of being the fantasy!

I’m ready to meet a man, online or otherwise, who is ready to share his fantasies with me and make them realities. I want someone who is as unafraid offline as he is online. I want someone who can appreciate my intellect and my looks, even though both are unconventional.

For now, I’ll continue to be the fantasy for a few. I’ll continue being a good little digital whore  because I need to feel desired and loved, but I really do crave something more real.

something real

 

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