The Online Experience

March 3, 1996

Every time I thought of him the only words that would come to mind were, that motherfucker. Sitting online late at night enjoying a glass of wine, I'd suddenly wonder if he was going to show up online, or if he'd even thought about it: that motherfucker. Waking up gasping for breath and wet from an intense dream about what exactly would have gone down had I not ran out on the concert: that motherfucker. Every time I would stupidly wish the phone would ring, with him on the other line saying he was sorry for lying to me for over seven months: that motherfucker. It became a mantra of sorts. I even found myself mumbling it under my breath walking back from campus one day after I'd overheard a group of students discussing his music. For the rest of February I couldn't escape him mentally, but physically he was completely absent. Not once did I find him online. Not one phone call. The box he'd sent my jacket back in still sat in the corner of my bedroom next to my closet, with my jacket and his note tucked inside; that was his only physical connection to my life. Alley took note of the change in my demeanor and that I was suddenly free on Sunday nights. When she asked, I just told her Jamie didn't turn out to be the type of friend I needed in my life. She seemed to accept that answer at face value, but I could tell she had questions she was holding back.

The longer I went without hearing from him the angrier I got. I more I wondered how long he intended to keep up this little game he was playing. And each time I thought about it the more foolish I felt. It had never dawned on me that Jamie could be Prince and if not for his need to call me I'd likely still be blind to this whole mess.

I was still in the habit of getting online Sunday nights and it seemed to be a hard habit to break. March 3 he finally reappeared.

SixStringGuy: hello Sydney! I've missed you.

I sat glaring at his first message in nearly a month, trying to figure out what I was supposed to say to him. My initial instinct was to cuss him out or maybe just ignore him completely, but I couldn't figure out which one would be more satisfying.

SixStringGuy: writing another paper?

Grumpybluebear: no

I knew I was scowling at my computer for no real reason, but I was incapable of changing my facial expression.

SixStringGuy: ok. Just wanted to make me sweat a little, make me feel like you were ignoring me?

Grumpybluebear: something like that.

SixStringGuy:what's going on sugar? You don't sound like your normal self.

Grumpybluebear: neither do you Jamie.

The clicking of my nails tapping across my desk filled my room. Maybe if I press a little he'd tell me, prove to me that he's at least man enough to know when he's messed up and needs to come clean.

Grumpybluebear: so how has work been Jamie? Anything new in your business?

SixStringGuy: works fine. Nothing new to talk about. How's school going?

Grumpybluebear: fine. So nothing new at work?

SixStringGuy: um, no. The only thing new is what we talked about last month.

Grumpybluebear: speaking of that, how is the wife? I mean it's been nearly a month, so I assume she cheating on you by now.

SixStringGuy: what the hell Sydney? Is that what your mad about? That I got married?

And unexpected, cynical laugh rang from my chest. Maybe I was a little pissed off about that, but certainly wasn't the main reason for my attitude. All the words I wanted to say floated at random through my head and I wasn't able to land on one to type.

Grumpybluebear: forget you 'Jamie'

Clicking the sign off button before violently pushing my chair back, standing up and stalking into the kitchen with my now empty wine glass. Mumbling under my breath as I grabbed the bottle of Belvedere and pouring what looked like a double into my wine glass.

"Sydney are you ok?" Alley enquired as she rounded the corner into the kitchen to check on me.

"I'm fine." My face and body language in general told her the complete opposite, but before she has a chance to say anything my phone line started to ring. Alley glanced over her shoulder toward the noise coming from my room

"You want me to get..."

"No," cutting her off, "let it ring." With a shake of her head she walked back to her bedroom and closed the door. Taking a sip of my drink I savored the burn of the vodka as it slipped down my throat. Walking into my room, I reached for the phone, lifting the receiver just high enough to answer before dropping it down. Closing my bedroom door I dragged the phone over to my bed where I took a seat and waited and he didn't disappoint. A few minutes later the line came to life again. This time I let the rest of my drink fill my mouth before sitting the glass on my bedside table.

"Sydney, what is going on?" His oddly concerned sounding whisper hit my ears before I could even say a word. And it was the fact that he was whispering again that broke my last little bit of self control.

"I swear to god you egotistical motherfucker if you whisper at me one more time I'm going to reach through this phone and strangle you."   That felt oddly satisfying, nearly as satisfying as the silence that followed from his end of the line. The silence seemed to stretch out forever before I finally decided to break it. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue Jamie? That's your name isn't it? At least that's your name when we chat online, right?"

"Sydney..." That full, deep voice poured through my phone and I knew if I let him talk that voice would somehow calm me and I wasn't ready for that.

"Oh, now you wanna talk like a grown up, no more whispering? In that case here's my question: if your Jamie when we chat online, but your Prince when your eating me out, who are you on the phone? I know it's a tough question, so feel free to take a minute."

"It's not what you think." His voice vulnerable, but I didn't have time for his bullshit tonight.

"Now I'm pretty sure it's exactly what I think. Its you lying to me for over seven months. Messing with my head. Yeah that all sounds about right."

"Sydney please."

"You know what, I don't have the time to deal with all your issues. You weren't even man enough to come clean. I had to figure it out on my own because your too chicken shit to to be honest with me."  His voice started but before I could even hear a single word I ended the call and unplugged the phone. There was a certain satisfaction in what had just happened, but as soon as I ended the call I felt tears starting to spill past my lower lashes. I'd yet to cry over this whole thing, but now it felt real. It felt like I'd lost my friend Jamie, a friend who never really existed. I didn't sleep that night, instead I spent most of it quietly crying and resisting the urge to plug the phone back in.

The entire month of March went on like this. He'd catch me online and I'd ignore him. He'd call and I'd cuss him out, not stopping to listen because I felt he didn't deserve it. If he wanted me to listen he should have started by coming clean before I pieced it all together. By the end of the month our online interactions had become very limited and he basically stopped calling. I was certain we were done, that he was finally giving up, but April proved otherwise.