Last night I had a third encounter with, let’s call her Gina.
We first met in a sandbox. That may sound lascivious to outsiders, but it’s not what it sounds like. Sandboxes are where you go to learn to build in Second Life.
So we met in a sandbox.
My first impression of Gina was of someone that do not suffer fools. She seemed to have a chip on her shoulder. She spoke her mind and quite bluntly. I admire people that say what they mean and, as the saying goes, mean what they say. So I took notice and before she left this informal gathering of avatars, I offered friendship and it was accepted.
That’s how it’s done in Second Life. If you stumble into someone of interest, and you think the person also felt a connection, you right-click their person (avatar), view their profile and click the Offer Friendship button.
At this point I don’t really know much about the person. She is conversing in text-only. I don’t even know for certain her gender. The only way to know for sure is to hear her voice and even that is not foolproof. During this encounter I was only interested in the fact that she was a builder, opinionated and a contrarian, someone that deliberately takes the other side of an issue, plays devil’s advocate, a gadfly if you will.
On our second encounter a few days later, I met what seemed to be a totally different person.
This confused me and still does. I didn’t remember her face from our first meeting but I definitely did this time. She stood out in marked distinction from all other avatars. She looked softer, more real, less a cartoon. She did not look exaggerated or put on, and despite minor flairs, or maybe because of them, she struck me as breathtakingly beautiful. Now keep in mind, we’re talking about an avatar.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was smitten.
A couple days later I checked my friends list and noticed she was in-world. Just seeing her name in the list gave me a little jolt of energy which quickly turned to anxiety. But, since I thrive on anxiety, I clicked the Instant Message button and asked if she was available? She replied with, “you better put on your bathing suit” and sent me an invitation to her location. Mind you I had just purchased a tux and was more in the mood for ballroom dancing.
Oh yes, if someone suggests wearing a bathing suit, do it.
I didn’t; and found myself knee-deep in water, dressed to the hilt. Around me were several handsome well-built young men parading around just to made me feel the biggest fool. But there she was, stretched out on the rocks in all her splendor. She has the slightest touch of a pout that betrays vulnerability. And when you get up close there is a hint of sadness that I can only describe as Dylanesque.
It’s hard for me, being a new to Second Life, to get my bearings after a teleport; but as soon as I saw her, I forgot all about the nubile young boys and did everything I could think of to make her heavenly face fill by computer screen.
It’s amazing how easy it is to suspend ones disbelief; to totally buy into this digital illusion as real. It must be a certifiable disease; one that afflicts foolish old men in their fifties.
Once I finally got oriented, I remembered that I came here on a mission, which I believed I expressed to her in text. You see, I was obsessed with the memory of her face and had to see again, was she really that different than other avatars. Then there’s the bigger question, how can an avatar have that kind of effect on a person.
The whole time I was there I had to resist the urge to run away and end this humiliating experience. After all here I was in a tuxedo, top hat and I think I even had a towel draped over my arm as if I was ready to serve drinks.
But then, when in Rome…
I had never taken my clothes off in Second Life and I didn’t know how; and didn’t want to ask such a newbie question. But little by little I figured it out. There on the rocks in front of a bunch of strangers and an angleface, I began to undress. It was kinda fun. Piece by piece the items came off. When I took off my shirt however, I found I was wearing a camisole, which turned my real-world body bright red. It was removed with the speed of a disparate man.
So there I was, down to a pair of skimpy black briefs.
What I didn’t understand and didn’t even notice, was that I didn’t have any nipples and there was no definition to my body. The girls were kind none-the-less and explained to me that I did not have a skin.
Well of course I didn’t have a skin, I didn’t even know I needed a skin, let alone what it was.
In retrospect, I can see that it was Gina’s skin that I was drawn to. I had to see her face again. Her face, her skin her divine eyes.
Time went by. We waded in the rushing water. We talked of skins, drawing body parts and photoshopped nipples. It was delightful.
When I looked around the boys were gone. It was just me, Gina and her girlfriend. I could not remember her name. But it wouldn’t have mattered for it was Gina I was there for and that’s where my attentions lay.
The conversation went deeper into how skins were made, the artistry and subtlety of it all. It took me back to my art-school days drawing the nude; relishing the nuances of the breast as it transforms into the shoulder muscles. Then I noticed Gina was topless and I was being encouraged to examine the artistry of her nipples and compare them to her girlfriend’s more tanned, fuller and higher-contrasted breasts. But remember, I’m smitten. My eyes are for Gina and Gina alone; and now they are invited to feast on her naked avatar.
Well, you might have thought I’d died and gone to heaven, to be in such an idealic location in the company of two beautiful women proud to show and tell…
Then before I had a chance to truly admire my companians, I was told to get dress. It seems we were going skin shopping. Gina insisted I must purchase a skin right now. How could I say no. So off we went…to buy me a man skin.
