Talking 'bout things

If only she knew I was writing this...

I met her online a coupla months ago, she dropped on here and left a comment and somehow we managed to take the dialogue away from my comments pages and into the broader interweb, exchanging the occasional email and IM chat. Her personality intrigued me, I liked the way she looked at life, her sense of the absurd permeating most of her conversation and her attention to the ridiculous hilarious.

Over the course of our 'conversations' we exchanged little insights into ourselves triggered by something I'd written or something she'd seen; but all the while insulating ourselves from each other behind our onscreen identities. One day, on a whim, I emailed her my number daring her to call, her reply was succinct "...and who would I be asking for?" we had reached a nexus, was I prepared to reveal myself to someone that I knew nothing about? I've written recently about the security of my anonymity, was I ready to step out of my comfort zone?

Then I remembered. In the course of a furious exchange of emails one night, she'd told me her name which I stored in the back of my mind, preferring the fiction of her onscreen anonymity. Fair is fair after all, so taking a deep breath I replied with the diminutive of my name.

That was the end of that...until yesterday. On my way home over the LYR an unfamiliar number showed up on the crackberry and trying to be the consumate professional, I answered in my most formal tones "G'afternoon, this is **** how may I help?" It was her. The time was 1645hrs.
With the exception of the dropped calls and the interruption of a call from my office, we were on the phone until 1945hrs.

The last time I was on the phone that long, I was 19 in first love love and as horny as a rabbit. Those of you that know me know that to me a phone is a brutal necessity of modern life and the less time I spend on it the better; favouring always the anonymity of the written word or the intimacy of the face to face spoken word.

We spoke about everything. I listened to her laugh. She made me laugh. I teased her about her newest 'friend', she asked about my ennui and then we talked some more. My mobile network gives truly ridiculous service in my neighbourhood so I sat in the slowly descending darkness, in my yard my backpack at my feet, my front door still locked talking to this stranger, to this kindred spirit, to this friend being entertained and engaged with her every word.

It almost seemed like a conversation we'd had before, all the cues being hit, both the appropriate and inappropriate comments rolling off of tongues like water off leaves; all the while avoiding using each other's names. Then I called her by name and the tone and pace of the conversation changed and as the dark got darker we each opened up a bit more listening and learning.

I enjoyed it. Think she did too. At the end of the convo we got back to an artificial formality, a little rigid and stilted almost like two children having been caught playing doctor, rushing goodbyes and promising to get together to put faces to the names we could now attach to the identities we had come to know online.

Where it goes, who knows. I still can't figure out where the time went.

Image from: fotosearch.com