Whitney
Slow blinking didn’t make the message disappear. Neither did rapid blinking.
Nope.
It’s still there.
W45PN357: Meet me for coffee?
We’ve been playing Orc’s Realm nightly for over a week, but it’s too soon, right?
When we discovered yesterday that we lived in the same city, it should’ve skeeved me out, but at the time I felt a little zing of excitement. We clicked. This guy is hilarious, and his voice over the mic is like melted butter.
Granted, I’m certain he’s like most of the guys who play online, living with his mother, drinking energy drinks to stay alive, and bathes so infrequently each shower is like a brand-new experience, but the idea of him being normal is nice.
RachelNRoss4Eva: No.
See? That was easy.
“Did I freak you out?” he asks through the mic.
Less than it should’ve, I think.
But I don’t say it. What I do find weird is that our mics are open, but he made his request via the chat box instead of the words coming out of his mouth.
Is he actually shy? That’s a possibility, but since my character flaws tend to lean in the direction of pessimism, I also wonder if he’s tracking our chats for some nefarious reason.
He could’ve easily asked his question. Not that the answer would’ve changed. It would still be a hard no. I don’t meet people. I don’t leave the building unless it’s absolutely necessary. I’m not exactly a hermit, but why put extra strain on myself when there are so many conveniences in today’s age?
Groceries delivered? Check.
Taco Bell delivered? Check.
Medications delivered? Check.
Everything I could ever want is dropped right off at my door. Hell, I don’t even have a car because everything is brought directly to me. If I can’t have it delivered immediately, then Amazon is my best friend. They literally have everything.
Meeting a guy I met online a week ago? I don’t want that delivered to my door.
Or do I?
I shouldn’t be sitting here in silence wondering if I’m going to regret the decision to turn him down.
“Rach?”
Damn it.
“I’m not freaked out,” I begin to explain. “I just don’t meet people.”
“Ever?”
“Not usually.”
I hit a few keys on my keyboard, trying to track his IP address, but I come up blocked. It’s not unusual for many gamers to have tons of protection on their systems, but I’m usually able to infiltrate them with a few keystrokes.
“What do you do for a living?” I snap my jaw shut the second the question leaves my lips.
“Will knowing that change your mind?”
Is he purposely being evasive? Is his question to my question a red flag, or normal since I’d have done the same thing?
“I think getting to know you better might help some.”
“So it’s a no for now, but not a no forever?”
I shrug as if he can see me. I never game online with active video. My avatar is very similar to what I look like in real life, but people are very hard pressed to find actual images of my real person. It’s a way to keep me safe, and honestly, I find it creepy to have stuff out in the cyberworld that makes it easy for people to stare at, judging and thinking they know me when we never had any sort of personal interaction with each other.
“Are you purposely avoiding the question?”
“I work for a small company downtown.”
“That explains everything,” I tease.
“I guess you could consider my work computer related.”
That helps to explain the government level firewall he has.
“What about you?”
And now I want to avoid the conversation just like he did, but I opened the damn door.
“Same.”
“So computer related? Do you create software? Designer?”
“I mainly do research.”
It’s pretty close to the truth, but I’m never going to tell some man I met online what I really do.
“Working from home.”
I stare at my screen even though the words were spoken. Both of our characters are standing in the middle of the field, the quest we were on completely forgotten when he asked me to coffee.
Those last three words didn’t sound like a question. They sounded knowledgeable.
Or am I just being the cynical person I’ve become since learning just how easy it is to lie to people online?
Cybercrimes are an increasing problem with the loads of data primarily online, and I refuse to be a victim. Although I don’t feel like I’m being catfished, I can never discount the possibility.
He asked you to coffee, not for your social security number.
“I work mostly from home.”
“Man, I wish I could do that. Not having to leave my apartment would be amazing. Nothing but pajamas and Door Dash for days.”
I chuckle because apparently, I’m living his dream.
“It’s a pretty sweet gig.”
“What company do you work for?”
“I’m an independent contractor,” I reply immediately, and just as quickly regret it. It’s too much information.
“So, you’re the epitome of success. Nice.”
I smile, unable to keep my lips from tilting up. I know my life is amazing. I know there are tons of people who wish they could do what I do.
“Any animals?”
This is a common question, right? Or is it weird he asked about pets before even asking if I had a boyfriend, girlfriend, or husband?
“I have a cat. What about you?”
“I have a bird. I wonder if they’d be friends.”
“Aren’t they natural enemies?” Is this another sign?
God, I’m driving myself crazy right now.
“Maybe?” It sounds like he’s actually contemplating it. “But you won’t even meet me for coffee and you’re wondering if our pets will get along? Who’s being overeager now?”
“Asshole.” I chuckle because he’s got me there.
“I have a question.” Here we go. Nothing good comes from those words. It’s almost as bad as I’m not trying to offend you, but… “I know you aren’t ready to meet, but what about giving me your number? So we can text during the day rather than having to wait until the evening to chat on here.”
I grow silent once again, but my fingers fly over my keyboard, already making an account on a popular chat app.
“Fair warning, I’m kind of addicted to memes and animal videos, so if you aren’t interested in getting bombarded with those, you might want to say no.”
And now he’s aware of my kryptonite?
“I love animal videos, but the memes that make me laugh the most are actually pretty offensive.”
It’s his turn to laugh. “Thank God, because I’m the same way.”
“Really offensive,” I clarify. “Dark humor, extremely sexual, and of course ones that make me ask too soon? Because if you can’t joke about the horrors in the world in real time, I think people will go crazy.”
“Did we just become best friends?”
“Maybe,” I answer, but my head is firing off all sorts of warning signs.
He’s so agreeable. Through Orc’s Realm we’re so compatible, it’s growing scary, a little too coincidental.
Would it be the same in real life? Is it possible, just by pure luck I found a guy online—something my parents are convinced would never happen—that is my perfect match, a complete reflection of myself in male form?
I really need to talk to Sarah about all of this, but she’s pro-dating, and I know she’d tell me I was a fool for turning down his offer of coffee from the start.
“So, your number?” he prods.
“I can’t give you that.”
“Maybe I should stop ask—”
“Are you familiar with the TalkToMe app?”
“No.”
“It’s an app that allows you to chat without disclosing any personal information.”
“I didn’t know that an app like that existed.”
“It’s rated one of the safest apps there is.”
“Is it like one of those apps that conversations disappear from? One the kids are using these days to sell drugs and engage in prostitution?”
“I don’t think so.”
“So it’s not an app that hides conversations so people can cheat on their spouses?”
“How would I know? I just created an account.”
“Just for me?”
“I’m sorry?”
“You created the account just so you can talk to me? I’m flattered.”
And there he goes again with that damn charm. Also, why is his damn voice so husky, his quick laugh so mesmerizing that I find myself making jokes just to hear it over and over again?
“Do you want my username or not?”
“Of course I do.”
I pause before handing over that information. It may not seem like a big deal to many but initiating something like this is very unusual for me. I don’t have social media, or many apps on my phone. Call me paranoid, but tracking happens everywhere, and that is never good for my business. Leaving footprints behind is a big no-no in my field, and I do everything in my power to protect client data.
W45PN357: TalkToMe app username is W45PN357-2
“There,” he says after he types out the message. “Now you can decide if you want to reach out to me. No pressure.”
But I feel pressure, low and deep in my gut, and not the kind that makes me want it to stop.
“Dash 2? Is the original Wasp Nest on the app?”
“Impossible,” he mutters, but at least this is a way to bring up something I’ve always wondered.
“Why did you choose that handle for Orc’s Realm?”
“I like it.”
Simple enough, but he probably doesn’t understand the ramifications of using the same username as one of the greatest hackers of our time.
“You know it’s the name for one of the greatest hackers of all time?”
“The greatest,” he clarifies. “Think he’ll be mad?”
“I think he has better things to do than search online for people using his name.”
“But he’d only have to set up a search program once to keep filtering through online data that tags any use.”
“Very true,” I agree. “I get the feeling you know a little more about computers than you initially let on.”
“I never said I didn’t know computers.”
“Yet you played Orc’s Realm like a guy who never touched a keyboard before.”
He laughs, causing cold chills to run down my arms. On a whim, I add him to my TalkToMe app and he accepts immediately.
“I explained that I online game, and Orc’s Realm is completely different. It just took some getting used to. Plus, YouTube is full of videos.”
A cat meme pops up on my phone screen in the app, but he doesn’t mention it. I chuckle at the image of the fat cat and send him back another already saved in my phone.
“Are we going to collect this chest tonight, or not?”
We play online for several more hours, and not once does he try to pressure me into meeting him again.
When I finally log off, I’m both relieved and disappointed.