I'd never been into porn or anything like that, but when my parents put the internet on the PC in my room so I could use it for my homework, I couldn't resist the temptation of having a little look around.
I have to admit I was shocked. I'm 18 and have always thought I was pretty adventurous when it came to sex, but the kind of stuff I saw, well, it was all a bit much. Sure, I've done oral, plenty of it, but no way would I let guys cum on my face or ram their cock down my throat till I gagged. Sorry, but I can't see the fun in that for me. Also, anal may sound erotic to guys, but my ass is a no-go zone. All pain and no pleasure, the way I see it.
So after a few weeks I got bored with the dirty photos and videos and moved on to the dirty chat rooms. I didn't have a microphone or webcam, but I had a bit of fun talking dirty – typing dirty really – with a whole bunch of guys and quite a few girls. Like I said, there are a few things I'd never do sexually, but that's in real life. On the net, I'd do anything. Of course, it was all playacting. I'd be telling these guys how I was nude and ramming cucumbers up my pussy and ass, when really I was just in my jeans and jumper having a laugh.
But one guy was different from the rest. When we chatted, it was more interesting. He didn't just want to cyber, he wanted to talk about other things – music, books, even politics. Sometimes we didn't cyber at all. And then he told me where he lived. I was shocked to discover we were in the same town.
That complicated things. I'd been telling all kinds of lies about myself – how I'd slept with all these guys and done all these erotic things and all the other crazy stuff people make up on the net. I slowly started to back away from all the rubbish I'd been sprouting. Pretty soon, I was telling him the truth. And then I even told him my real name. He admitted he'd been doing the same as me, having fun making up things, but now he started to tell the truth too.
I was really starting to like him. The thing is, I know net relationships are dumb things. It's so easy to get yourself hooked onto some psycho. I didn't think Rick, which was the guy's name, was a psycho, but I was still edgy about taking our 'relationship' any further. I didn't want to send him my photo in case he recognised me in the street, so he didn't send me one. I described myself – 18, slim, tall (5' 9", which is tall for a girl, I think) pretty (if I do say so myself) and with long blonde hair. He said he liked the sound of that and described himself as tall, dark and handsome. I wanted more detail, so he said he was 22 years old, 6' 3", athletic and (typing in LOL, which is compulsory for every second line in chatrooms) with a 9 inch cock. I typed back LOL and that was that. For the time being. But then the temptation became too much and I decided I wanted to meet him.
We arranged to meet on a Saturday afternoon at a park near a mall we both knew. I said I'd be wearing a red top, and he said he'd wear a red cap to match. I also told him I'd be sitting on a park bench in quiet corner of the park, so that no one else could see us. I didn't want to bump into any of my friends.
So there I was, sitting alone on the park bench in my red top, when I heard a voice behind me.
"Is that you Becky?"
I think I forgot to mention that my name is Rebecca, though everyone calls me Becky. The voice was deep and smooth. I turned around, smiling.
"Yes, is that you Ri..."
I stopped mid sentence. This had to be a mistake. Yes, he was wearing a red cap, but this couldn't' be Rick – not my Rick. Because this man was...black.
"Yes, it's me. Hi."
He was talking as if everything was normal, but he hadn't told me he was black. I'd expected a white boy. I was stunned. I couldn't speak. He didn't seem to notice.
"Well, you weren't lying. You really are pretty."
I didn't know what to say. Let me explain. It's not that I've got anything against black people. It's just that...well...my parents don't really approve of them – especially my mother. She's from the South, and though she moved up to Boston when she married my father, she still has those ingrown Southern attitudes. I've often argued with her about it, but she never listens. She sent me to a private girl's school because she thought I wouldn't come in contact with the 'wrong kind of people' there, and we live in a suburb where there aren't many black people at all. In fact, embarrassed as I am to say it, I've never had a black or Asian friend. I've barely spoken to a black person in my life.
So now, finding myself looking at black man who I expected to be a white man, I suddenly found that I had a lot of my mother in me. What could I say?
"You...um...you're Rick? No, you can't be Rick."
He looked suddenly perturbed.
"Can't I? What, I'm not what you expected."
"Well...um...no. I mean, you're tall and good looking, like you said, but..."
"But what?"
And then he suddenly understood.
"You mean...you didn't realise I was black? But you had to know? How could you not know?"
I panicked.
"Um...no...it's not that. It's...it's..."
But he saw through me.
"Oh that's what it is all right. I don' know why, but you didn't know I was black. And you don't like it, do you? You liked the man you chatted with on the net, but now that you see he's a black man, so you don't like him any more."
I was mortified – mainly because he was right. I didn't think I was a racist, but maybe I was, because there was no way I was going to have any kind of relationship with this man – no way. Yes, he was tall, dark and handsome – just like he said. But he was black, and 18 years of my mother's indoctrination had done its work on me.
"I'm sorry Rick. I didn't know. It's just such a shock for me."
I suddenly realised that Rick had given me plenty of indications that he was black. Not directly, but it was just in his general conversation. Even when he said 'tall, dark and handsome' he added, 'very dark' with a 'lol' after it. But me...I didn't notice because...well, because of the way I was brought up. I just didn't think black people would use things like the internet. It's crazy, but that's what I thought.
Rick was just as shocked as I was. His voice had been cheerful when he greeted me, hurt when he saw my reaction, but now his tone was angry.
"I can't believe this. We've been chatting online for months, we've got so much in common, so many things we both like – but suddenly none of that matters because I'm black."
What could I say? He was exactly right.
"I'm so sorry. I...I...don't know what to say."
Now he was furious.
"That's all, is it? You can't get to know me? Can't find out what kind of person I am? You can't even talk to me can you?"
I was numb. Embarrassed, afraid, sick in the stomach. I just kept saying the same thing over and over.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.'
I'd hurt him, hurt him bad. Now I was afraid he'd want to hurt me back – physically hurt me. I started thinking, why had I chosen this deserted section of the park to meet him? There was absolutely no one around. And I thought – yes, the same old stereotype – that because he was black he might drag me into the bushes and rape me. That's what black people do, don't they?
But then I looked at Rick and felt terrible. There were tears in his eyes.
"Oh...oh Rick, I'm so sorry. Please...please...it's all my fault."
He looked at me with his sad eyes and my heart broke for him. How could I be so awful? How could I have judged him – pre-judged him – the way I did. I wanted to hold him, to make him feel better. But it was too late.
"Becky...I...I just can't believe the wonderful person I've been chatting with for so long could turn out to be like this. I just...just..."
He didn't finish the sentence. Instead, he turned and walked away. There were tears in my eyes now, but even then, I couldn't help but notice the lithe athleticism of his body. Had I just made the biggest mistake of my life?
I went home, shattered, and lay on my bed for hours. When my mother called me for dinner, I told her I wasn't feeling well.
Then I turned on my computer. Clicked on my internet icon. Went to my favourite chat room. There it was looking at me, Rick's name, sitting at the top of my list of friends. I had loved talking to him. But now it was all over. All over because of me.
Then I noticed the glow behind the face beside Rick's name. He was online.
I sat there for a long time, wanting to say hello. But how could I, after what I had done. Then I did it. I typed three words:
So, so, so sorry.
Nothing happened. He didn't respond. I waited five minutes, then started typing. And typing. The words just flowed out of me.
I know you're hurt. I know I was awful. It's hard for me to explain the reason I reacted the way I did. Let me try. I don't know any black people. I don't know any Asian people. I only know white people. I've lived a closeted, protected life. But I realise now how small-minded that has made me. I know from all the time we've been chatting that you're a good person, with a good heart and a generous soul. I know from seeing you at the park that you're handsome and strong. You probably don't want to talk with me or even chat with me again, but I would like to see you. I'd like to try again and get to know the person you are without any of my bigotry getting in the way. If you don't answer me, I'll understand. I'm so sorry I hurt you.
I stopped typing and held my hand to my face. Without realising it, I had been crying the whole time. I watched the screen, waiting. One minute. Two minutes. Three minutes. Still no reply. And then, after five minutes...
Tomorrow. Same time, same place.
Suddenly I felt I was floating on air. Had he forgiven me? Probably not. Maybe he just wanted to give me a piece of his mind. But maybe he really would give me the second chance I asked for.
So there I was, 24 hours after our first horrible meeting, sitting on the same park bench wearing the same red top – even though it was a much colder day and I was feeling the chill. Without a sound, there was suddenly someone sitting next to me.
"Your really have no black friends?"
I looked across. It was Rick. I choked back a tear.
"No. Not one."
He shook his head.
"And you don't know any Asians?"
"Well, I've met some. But I've never had one as a friend."
"And when I said I was tall, dark and handsome – and added 'very dark' to the sentence, you didn't realise I was black?"