I had just moved into my neighborhood. Didn't know a soul. In the mornings I would be at work. At night, I'd come home. Sit in bed and chat on the puter.
I confess to being a geek. Online chat is a lot better than spending all evening with an idiot, worrying if he'll try to kiss you. Besides, I was getting tired of the men my age. So childish. I wanted someone more level-headed. And so the search had been going on frantically for five years, to no avail.
I had broken up with my ex. That's how he got to be my ex, right? Well, the breaking up had involved a lot of growing up too. I learnt, men like diversity. They like butts, boobs and ass. And they didn't like prudes.
I wasn't ready to be any man's slut. Maybe someone's. But not anyone's.
Though I desired to be a sexual goddess to one man, I doubted if he existed, and I had no desire to tell any man I that had these desires. When the right man came along he would know. Right?
So, there I was. The laughing-stock of all my friends who couldn't understand why I was waiting for the "right man" at my age. Not making an effort to date really. Retreating fast, if the man was anything other than "sex-worthy".
And then, something funny happened. I was online. Bored shitless. Eating corn chips and salsa. Flipping the goddamn channels. And then there was an instant message.
He was 52. Well, I wasn't surprised. I was avoiding the 30s and 40s rooms. Too many bots there, not to mention the immature men. I was not overly excited by them, nor was I expecting anything interesting, other than, perhaps, chat. The 50s rooms were a far improved version of the meat market. Far fewer "ASL Smart Alecks", trying to ask for your cam or requesting a pic, in the very second line.