BoilingBunnies.com

2 A.M... You’re on the net, trolling around, absolutely nothing better to do but see what others are doing.  It happens.  Sweet words pop up in your PM screen, wanting to talk one on one.  What man could resist this?  So, with no thought of what could be anything but the hottest female on earth, you go in headfirst.  The talk goes from general conversation, to typing about what position is the best, in the blink of an eye.  She says exactly all the right words.  The words magically pop onto the screen, a female saying things that only porn stars talk about, and flaunting it.  Flashbacks of bad Aerosmith videos come into mind; you are thinking the whole time that only another dude could say these words, or a 400 pound woman with a kid strapped to each enormous, stretch marked tit.  Why not ask for a photo?  Less than a minute later, you have one, nice and glossy, showing you everything you could ask for.

This one has come to you, and you didn’t come to her.  Thoughts of just how funny this woman could be race through you, is she so desperate that she has to find love in a chat room?  The second thought is, how far can you take this?  Can I play an endless mind fuck with someone that has no clue, or is it me who is clueless?

Why not play the game? You have nothing better to do, and you may never get a better lesson on the psychology of the female species.  No one can truly get hurt in this.  At least not you.  26 photos later, and her typing your name out in sex that only a true jackass could think is really happening, you go to bed.  After a blissful sleep, you wake up, log on, and BOOM!!!!!!  She is waiting for you.  Less than 30 seconds later, her name pops up on your screen, asking if you are there.

Red lights go off in your brain, thanking yourself that you didn’t get your kid that rabbit for her birthday, because it would be turned into a stew before you know it.  You look at the photos again, noticing that she never smiles in any single photo.  Is her life that sad, or is she in a contest for worst teeth, the winner gets their grill molded for the 2005 edition of Billy Bob’s newest version of truck stop novelty teeth?  All you want to do now is talk to her, over some kind of land line, just to see if there is a slur, or some kind of noticeable lisp, just to stop the guessing of her mangled, fucked up chompers.  2 sentences into the conversation, you have it pegged.  Her slur is either drug induced, or she can open up cans of peaches with those geeked up pieces of bone most of us call teeth.

Guilt is now starting to come into play. Should you just tell her that you are busy, that you have anything else to do but talk to her, or should you just let it go as long as possible, say what you think she wants to hear?  Her tales of her life are enough to drive Tony Robbins to suicide.  You can tell this is definitely an “all about me kind of gal”.

So you let it play out, saying anything to let her feel good, knowing that as bad as she wants you to meet her in some secluded, meth infested trailer park, you have the power. You never have to meet her; all you have to do is string her along, seeing just how far you can take this desperate, lonely human being that has no life.

Less than three days later, she is telling you that she loves you.  ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS???  This has become better than any soap opera that you have watched. This one must give her love away faster than a Jehovah’s Witness gives out pamphlets.  Now you become really intrigued.  Just who is the real person behind the screen? Maybe it’s Google time.  A quick search tells you everything that you need to know.  You have been talking to the equivalent of an Internet whore.  Is there really such a thing?  10 years ago you would be paying 3.99 a minute to have this happen to you; technology has come a long way, baby.  No less than 25 sites have her name on them, in one sort or another. Various names, but it’s not hard to piece them together knowing it’s the same person.

Tales of the same thing that you are going through, but with other guys, are flooding in. You are told that there were never any others, that every time she talks to the male species, they take it the wrong way, that it’s always her allure that makes the guys write such horrible things about her.  Nothing like picking this lie apart, turning your self into a C-list actor from CSI.  Seeing this woman that begs for your Internet love, finding photos that were done with a Dollar General web camera, looking at spread eagle shots of her with objects that would choke Marilyn Chambers.  You ask yourself, could you take this one home to Mom?  The closet of ones self, that we all have deeply hidden away, well, hers just so happens to be all over the net.  So why not ask the question that always gets thought, but never asked? "How many guys have you been with?" It becomes obvious that she doesn’t even know anymore, due to the fact that she has to ask men that she has hasn’t seen in years if they fucked or not.  So much for the power of three theory.

What do you do? You thank yourself that all of the billions of miles of fiber optic lines that have helped all of us become connected are just that, wires.  You will never have to lay your eyes on this person in real life, knowing that you would have nothing to talk about, all the talking has been done through zeros and ones.  That you started this game as a fun, devilish adventure, and now it is making you feel a burn in your throat, as the vomit comes close to spewing out of you.  You are left wondering how one person could be so fun, but at the same time are so rotten to the core.  What happened in this person’s real life that made them go from an average, good-natured being, to one that has to look for romance on the Internet.  Granted, there are the rare exceptions that work out over the net, but the truth is, this one will never find love.

So to all of the people that think that the Internet is just smelly, dirty men that couldn’t pick up anything with a heartbeat at his local bar, the same is true for the ladies. There are just as many desperate, lonely, ass ugly women out there as there are men.  And the really ugly ones will show you their tits and ass in a New York minute.

Spreading truth,

Manimal Lector