On your average University Sunday morning, when one finds oneself fully clothed, viciously embracing a close friend, whilst screaming for your housemates to help you end it all, the traditional protocol is to wedge oneself in the crease of the sofa with a selection of takeaway menus littered around your fatigued carcass. On this occasion, so inspired were we, having awoken in yet another platonic spoon, that (still sofa-wedged, takeaway-laden) we decided to delve into the foreign realms of online chatrooms; I, motivated by a journalistic quest for discovery, obviously. My friends, motivated by a desperate quest to get laid.
Articles about 'Second Life' have consistently cropped up over the past few years since its creation in 2003. Headlines such as 'Couple divorce as husband bonks sexy werewolf on Second Life' have fascinated me, but online chatting is not something one partakes in when one has a real life boyfriend. Fortunately, weakened from dragging men home from local Leeds nightclubs for the past three years, an affair which didn’t require leaving the sofa and which could be carried out while covered in takeaway remnants really fit the bill.
Our avatar, Clitty FreshWater ('Clitty Fresh’ to her friends, naturally) was not your average girl-next door. As a group of hot-blooded 22 year old men and women, horny on a hangover and desperate not to resort to satisfying our primal urges with each other (a tried, tested and gruesomely failed experiment in some cases) we were gasping for some online action and were not prepared to embark in small talk at the helm of some average-cyber-Sally. Therefore, we endowed old Clitty with a mega-byted bust, so large it struggled to contain itself within her ambitiously tiny corset. But that, my friends, is the beauty of a Second Life cleavage, one which is ultimately ungoverned by the laws of gravity and unless otherwise instructed, will never be exposed by a weak corset lace.
So in we delved, eager to find ourselves an online mate to suit our animalistic urges. Somehow, despite ‘demeanor’ not having been an editing option in the creation of our avatar, Clitty was rollin’ round the ‘lobby’ like a baller.
We knew, she knew it. Clitty looked Fresh.
It wasn't long before we found what, despite my profound inexperience of them, seemed to be 'a real catch' and I immediately took a liking to 'BadBoyHolland'. BadBoy had one of those 'f**k the world' attitudes that I find so attractive in men, real or online. There he was, successfully defying the normal codes of convention by being butt naked in the middle of a public place. This fella had balls; we could all see them.
BadBoyHolland was one of those truly wholesome gents that i just knew would get on really well with my father. I knew this because he said ‘I want to be your father.’ As with most men in the grips of a midlife crisis, my dear dad responds well to flattery, particularly from the mouths of potential suitors willing to take me off his hands, but before I put all my eggs in one basket and invited BadBoy to come and shack up with us UKside, I was intrigued to find out what exactly it was about my father that my Dutch-lover so wanted to emulate.
I needn’t have asked. ‘I want to spank you and you shout ‘Daddy’’ he so eloquently elaborated. This is wrong on many levels.
Hitting your children is illegal for a start.
However, not one to make snap judgments, particularly when it comes to those conversing in a second tongue, I wasn’t ready to write off BadBoy just yet. I wasn’t sure what I would have preferred to ‘Daddy’ but, as I'm not completely adverse to spanking, I knew it was in my best interests to hold out, and hope BadBoy was merely the victim of a translation error.
Minutes later, all my worst fears were confirmed. BadBoy was not my linguistically challenged soul-mate. Nor was he my biological father trying to take me back to Holland and discipline my un-cultured English behind. He was in fact a pervert of the highest degree and if Ctrl 5 had been the command for 'slap' I would have hit it until it cracked.
However, in hindsight, knowing BadBoys penchant for grievous bodily harm, I feel this would have had a contradictory effect to that which I desired.
Clitty, so new to this world, and already her faith in men was shattered beyond repair. I knew immediately that, much as we loved her, she did not belong in a world where grown men think it’s okay to shake their unconcealed members and beg perfect strangers to indulge in faux-incest.
We deleted our account, desperate to forget all we had learned and return to the safe haven of the platonic spoon, where, while the role of friends and lovers may at times get confused, the role of a father is eternally absolute.