I've said from the beginning: it wouldn't be this Cafe Society lifestyle that would get me: it would be my fellow revelers. While I'm usually grounded where drama queens are concerned, they have been getting to me: or, maybe I'm allowing them get to me. Or maybe I just think I'm allowing them get to me. And don't tell me I'm over thinking this.
I'm the first to admit : I enjoy my cam time with my friends very much and I am like meeting others. It gets me out of the house and into the real world. And getting to know someone should include- or at least I thought it did- a sort of mutual code of conduct. I'm not in cyberspace with some hidden agenda. (not that kind of agenda)
But if the players come to their respective Logitech Webcams with mischief on their minds, and that's been alluded to: bring it on! Or, if that's not how we're spinning it (not that kind of spin): include me in on the joke. Of course that implies the other person has a clue. Here's a recap of three of my more recent Skype episodes-also known as Edge of Fright
*A Doctor from Denmark declines to party on cam because he's going to an orgy the following night. He's also convinced that 'others' are hacking into his computer. We talk for awhile, then about thirty minutes later, he calls me up: having slammed, stripped, put on a tool belt and is bouncing off the walls. Then, a friend shows up, who looks at me like I did something wrong. The call abruptly ends, but for the next two weeks, everytime I log on, I'm hit up by Doctor Danish, with a group in tow...five, fifteen, twenty five names. Skype's recommendation is 9 maximum. Yet, despite my polite messages, not so polite messages and finally, not responding in anyway, he still continues to call. Or did, til I blocked him. I think blocking is a bit extreme, but he left me no recourse.
*There's a dirty secret in the town where my next caller lives: Everyone, and I mean everyone, has had incestuous relations with their father and the family dog. An ex-lover is now fucking the ex boyfriend of our main character here.
It's simple to figure out who's fucking who: because they all are. And during each of the 5 times I've cammed with My Friend Flip, I get the strangest feeling other people are watching me. Which isn't a problem if they'd stop talking in the background and say hello.
*The Sexy Guy Who Seemingly Shared So Much In Common With Me: the next day, I get a Facebook message from a woman looking for him. How did she get my name? How did she know he and I knew each other? When I asked my new friend, he accuses me of being in cahoots with her....an ex wife. He's been married to men and women so many times, I feel like I'm talking to the star of 'Seven Brides and Grooms for One Brother'.
*The cute guy from the Tar Heel State didn't seem to be a Heel; but in five minutes of talking to me, he was ready to settle down and put a chastity belt on me. He had copious amounts of goodies to satisfy any dowry requirements my father might have. He was so earnest about attaching himself to me. I found him neither sexual nor spooky. Strange.
I'm being more sarcastic than I'd like but in short, a few things are non-negotiable with me: cold calls over and over and over, sneakily sharing my cam image with your friends in the other room, your Odd Fellows Lodge or Nova Scotia isn't nice, especially when I know you're doing it.
And I don't care what excuses you make about being 'so tweaked, so out of it....oh, it wasn't really you, it was: the drugs....Talky Tina....the devil..... or Dinah Shore. Take responsibility for your stupid man tricks, don't take cafe society so seriously (advice I should take as well) but leave my heartstrings alone.....
...or I'll aim for your head.
And once inside your mind: I'll drive you bonkers by reciting lines from movie scripts..
I'm the first to admit : I enjoy my cam time with my friends very much and I am like meeting others. It gets me out of the house and into the real world. And getting to know someone should include- or at least I thought it did- a sort of mutual code of conduct. I'm not in cyberspace with some hidden agenda. (not that kind of agenda)
But if the players come to their respective Logitech Webcams with mischief on their minds, and that's been alluded to: bring it on! Or, if that's not how we're spinning it (not that kind of spin): include me in on the joke. Of course that implies the other person has a clue. Here's a recap of three of my more recent Skype episodes-also known as Edge of Fright
*A Doctor from Denmark declines to party on cam because he's going to an orgy the following night. He's also convinced that 'others' are hacking into his computer. We talk for awhile, then about thirty minutes later, he calls me up: having slammed, stripped, put on a tool belt and is bouncing off the walls. Then, a friend shows up, who looks at me like I did something wrong. The call abruptly ends, but for the next two weeks, everytime I log on, I'm hit up by Doctor Danish, with a group in tow...five, fifteen, twenty five names. Skype's recommendation is 9 maximum. Yet, despite my polite messages, not so polite messages and finally, not responding in anyway, he still continues to call. Or did, til I blocked him. I think blocking is a bit extreme, but he left me no recourse.
*There's a dirty secret in the town where my next caller lives: Everyone, and I mean everyone, has had incestuous relations with their father and the family dog. An ex-lover is now fucking the ex boyfriend of our main character here.
It's simple to figure out who's fucking who: because they all are. And during each of the 5 times I've cammed with My Friend Flip, I get the strangest feeling other people are watching me. Which isn't a problem if they'd stop talking in the background and say hello.
*The Sexy Guy Who Seemingly Shared So Much In Common With Me: the next day, I get a Facebook message from a woman looking for him. How did she get my name? How did she know he and I knew each other? When I asked my new friend, he accuses me of being in cahoots with her....an ex wife. He's been married to men and women so many times, I feel like I'm talking to the star of 'Seven Brides and Grooms for One Brother'.
*The cute guy from the Tar Heel State didn't seem to be a Heel; but in five minutes of talking to me, he was ready to settle down and put a chastity belt on me. He had copious amounts of goodies to satisfy any dowry requirements my father might have. He was so earnest about attaching himself to me. I found him neither sexual nor spooky. Strange.
I'm being more sarcastic than I'd like but in short, a few things are non-negotiable with me: cold calls over and over and over, sneakily sharing my cam image with your friends in the other room, your Odd Fellows Lodge or Nova Scotia isn't nice, especially when I know you're doing it.
And I don't care what excuses you make about being 'so tweaked, so out of it....oh, it wasn't really you, it was: the drugs....Talky Tina....the devil..... or Dinah Shore. Take responsibility for your stupid man tricks, don't take cafe society so seriously (advice I should take as well) but leave my heartstrings alone.....
...or I'll aim for your head.
And once inside your mind: I'll drive you bonkers by reciting lines from movie scripts..
2 comments:
Thank you for writing this. I am taking the biggest sigh of relief mankind has ever known.
I never suffered from paranoia. In a room full of tweaking spinners, I would get a medal for my ability to remain calm. That being said, after getting sober I would attempt to speak of my suspicions about what I was subject to while on cam. I would have trouble thinking I was not a raving lunatic.
In my life, I have been a saint, a spinner and I have sinned. Today, I am sober and taking responsibility for my past actions. I am making amends where necessary. Unfortunately, damage has been done and some people out there still think it is OK to harass me. Those days are numbered, if not over.
In regard to the last statement, about the possible effect of reciting lines from movie plots, I am truly sorry we are not partners. I have an image of us in a balcony, the anti-Siskel and Ebert. Since I am a bit overweight, I'll be Roger. And to demonstrate my qualifications...
"My name is Rhoda Morgenstern. I was born in the Bronx, New York in December, 1941. I always felt responsible for World War II. The first thing i remember liking that liked me back was food. In school my grades were ok, mostly B's and C's, except for self-control. Oy.
I had a bad puberty. It lasted seventeen years.
I'm a high school graduate. I went to art school. My entrance exam was on a book of matches.
I decided to move out of the house when I was 24. My mother still refers to this as the time I ran away from home. Eventually I moved to Minneapolis, where it's cold and I figured I'd keep better.
Now I'm back in Manhattan. New York, this is your last chance."
I typed that from memory. Two thumbs up for me and the balcony is closed. But do check the aisles. Someone may be going bonkers.
ArmsManNYC: thank you so very much for sharing your story and for your comments above. I disconnected my Google+ account so I couldn't get your email address to write privately. Again, I thank you.
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