Courtship ♥

We’ve all seen them. Anyone who's ever visited a sim where avies go to meet other avies will have encountered them at one time or another. If you're a female you’ve probably been harassed by them, too. For instance, that guy with a hair-base in lieu of hair who keeps following you around and popping up in front of you like a jack-in-the-box? A prime example. Behold the staring eyes and dangling arms of the Noob! Watch what he does next: It's as predictable as a wet weekend in November.

Forever on the look-out for free pixel-sex, he approaches a female of the species and delivers his first killer line:

"Hi".

The female of the species, an 8 foot tall stick insect, resplendent in badly fitting prims and flashing footwear, smiles back at him with the aid of her 'smile attachment'. "Hello", she whispers.

Head nodding vigorously, Noob Male presses home his advantage. "How r u?"

The female smiles and her shoes twinkle invitingly. The male's chest medallion answers with a few sparkles of its own. A beautiful friendship is born.

Shielding his eyes from the overwhelming bling, the male noob attaches something approximating the size and shape of a gigantic uncooked sausage to his groin area. It's as long as his forearm and twice as thick. The colour is a sickly, candyfloss pink and contrasts interestingly with the rest of his muddy coloured skin.

Noob Male can't help but confuse Instant Message with Local Chat, and segments of 'conversation' are broadcast to the sim at large. Expect something like: "har har, you made me hard. I c u r a hottie" (translation: "I see you are a hottie").

If you’re particularly unlucky you might even get an announcement along the lines of, "O fuk I just cum" (no translation required). The faux pas is followed by an embarrassed silence which covers the entire sim like a cloud of shame.

After 5 minutes 'courtship', Noob Male disappears. Noob Female stands around blinging loudly for a moment before she, too, disappears, having received a TP offer from Noob Male inviting her to jump on the free poseballs he’s found. These are located on one of those sims where inferior genitals are sold – the kind that promise to "make your Second Life complete". The funny thing is, they just might; it's only virtual reality, when all's said and done. Ok, so it's got the word "reality" in it, but that's qualified by the word "virtual", right? Which seems to mean, "not really" or "not quite" in certain vocabs. Or even, "can't be arsed". And that means, by extension, that one can look like an utter sack of sh*te and still get teh pixel-sex, yes?

Actually, yes. Furthermore, "Wanna sit on my cock?" IS a successful chat-up line guaranteed to work on some women some of the time. (I've seen it happen, and seen it more than once). And, ultimately, what does it matter so long as they stick to their own kind, and don't try it on with me and mine? My avie will laugh in your face and her typist is only marginally more polite. Look, we're NOT going to sit on it and that's final.


noob footwear with obligatory 'bling'

Wouldn't it be great if ALL the noobs and perma-noobs were to climb atop each other, pyramid style, and remain like that for ever and ever? Every orifice plugged, every mouth stoppered; every nasty prim attachment snug and safe and out of sight (yeuch). A kind of permanent 'art installation' thingummy on a deserted island somewhere out in the Blake Sea, at which the rest of us can point and laugh.

There's one major problem here. The world requires a constant influx of Newbs to ensure its survival, and not all newbs are the same; it only seems that way to the somewhat jaded, as I probably am. There are newbs and there are noobs, and one should make an effort to distinguish between the two. Fortunately, it's easy: A newb is a person who is new. He has the potential to become anything he chooses. A noob, on the other hand, is so eager for pixel-sex he's out there looking for it before he's learned how to dress himself. He's as obvious as he is green.

We're constantly reading in resident profiles how, "SL is SL and RL is RL and yadder yadder yadder" but in some ways the virtual world is not so different. When you meet someone for the first time, so much hangs upon your initial presentation. In the absence of a confident, charismatic personality how else are you going to be judged in the first five seconds? Yes, it's unfair -- particularly if you're shy -- but it's always been that way, in either world. With this in mind, my next post is entitled: "Advice for the Male Newb" -- 'cos, let's be honest, it's the men who need it! **laughs** Enjoy! ♥

This is What it Sounds Like

Hooray! My friend is visiting, having just returned from a sim called the Grubby Talk Lounge. He knows I'm writing a blog and 'cos I'm sometimes stuck for a topic, he's helping me out with a few ideas. Nice of him, isn't it? Albeit Squashy's been trying to get him onto a blue pose-ball for the best part of an hour, and if she keeps it up I swear I'll kick her ass.

Ahem. Let me show you what I have so far:

Upon teleporting, he was deposited in grassy area with a large arrow painted on the ground. He followed this for some distance until he came to a rickety bridge. Crossing the bridge, he suddenly found himself in the middle of what appeared to be the 'Talk Lounge, where he ...

"I want to go!" interrupts Squashy, breathlessly. "It sounds REALLY luxurious!"

I kick her in the shin, not caring if it leaves a bruise. "Shut up and don't be so stupid! It's not the Hilton Hotel; it's a smut place for goodness sake. A sh*tty little smut place".

Squashy rubs her leg and eyes me warily. I note a flicker of interest, quickly extinguished.

"Yes. And you can wipe that look off your face straightaway. You're not going and that's final".

I turn to my companion. "I'm sorry about this. She's just being rude because you won't sit on a pose-ball with her. Take no notice and with a bit of luck she'll get bored and go away". My recalcitrant avie continues to sulk like the stroppy little slut she is. My handsome friend (yes, he's handsome; why do you ask?) leans back on my (sex)bed and admires my decor. That's décor, not décolletage, Beeswing! I raise an eyebrow and she scowls back at me. I scribble a few lines on my pad, brow creased in concentration but not too much in case I look like a hag. (That will never do).

"I'd really like to hear about the Grubby Talk Lounge", I say, sucking the end of my pencil in a provocative manner. "I want to write a review for my blog. I haven't written anything in ages and I need something to write about." I glance at squashy and she sticks her tongue out at me.

"What the hell for?" she smirks. "No-one reads it anyway."

"That’s not the point”, I counter. "I write for myself and I don't give a toss whether anyone reads it or not. Anyway, I know a couple of people who do. Well--- one, anyway. Look, just STFU, will you?"

I toss my hair and turn back to my companion (he's handsome; did I forget to say that?)

"Well, I wouldn’t really describe it as a 'lounge' at all', says my friend. 'It's more of an open space with some scruffy old sun loungers and a few crappy chairs that you fall through the middle of as soon as you sit down. There's always lots of confused looking avies standing around as though they’re waiting for something to happen – only nothing ever does".

"'Gormless looking' is more like it", mutters Squashy from her hunched position on the 'female masturbation rug'. I make a mental note to throw the revolting thing out and replace it with a 'normal' rug as soon as possible. Why must she always show me up?

"So tell me about the ‘voices’ ", I say, assuming my sexy secretary posture, intelligent and enquiring.

"Yes, yes, tell us about the dirty voices!" interjects Squashy. I can see she's getting excited and it annoys me. If i don't do something about her she's going to become completely unmanageable.

My friend shrugs, as I boot Squashy’s pert little ass into digital limbo.

"Well, I could only hear *one* person speaking”, says my friend, “and that was the host. There were some off duty hosts -- or maybe they were working -- I couldn't really tell. It was like listening to a really annoying DJ on a bad 'talk radio' show, d'you know what I mean?”

"Yikes! Didn’t anyone else speak? I mean, I thought the whole point of that place was voice interaction? Sexy voice interaction?"

"Well, a few tried, but they got talked over by the hostess so they gave up. You'd have given up too, if you'd been there. She had a voice like a scalded cat ---"

I stare at him.

" …. with a helium balloon in its teeth. Erm. Where did you say Squashy went?"

"I didn’t." I retrieve my pencil from under the duvet and assume a mantle of brisk efficiency. "We were talking about the Talk Lounge, in case you’d forgotten. The Grubby Talk Lounge. You were saying that no-one seemed to join in?"

"Well, no. There were a couple of stupid games, sure, but no-one wanted to play them. Plus a couple of folks kept talking all over them and got kicked out. That was pretty funny, actually."

"It sounds a bit of a shambles if you ask me." I lean my head against his chest, catch hold of his arm and fold it around me. His fingers are a mere millimetre away from my breast and we both know it. The air between us is charged with possibility. He settles himself more comfortably on my (sex)bed and runs his fingers gently through my hair. I can’t help but compare my silky curls to Squashy's choppy, ginger mane and those (let's be honest about it) hideous freckles. My friend moves his hand a little and I wriggle a little and we collide somewhere in the middle, with my 'article' scrunched up between us like chip paper.

"Well, I didn't stay too long after that. Some guy was touching himself with his mic open, and I couldn't listen any more. It was gross".

"Hmmmm. You know, Squashy would've loved to have heard that guy jacking off. What do you think?"

My friend goes quiet for a moment. I can sense his brain working and it isn't located in his head. "Well, I could always chaperone her if you like; make sure she behaves herself."

I struggle free of his enfolding arm and entrap the end of his rather well-shaped nose between the top joints of my middle and index fingers, twisting just a little.

"So tell me: Were the hostesses really sexy?" I glare at him.

"Sure they were."

I twist harder. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes! No! But not as sexy as you, though. Not even close!"

I let go of his nose, and snuggle in close. "I need a title and I don't have one. Something snappy and not too long. Any ideas?"

"Well, you could always call it, 'How not to run a voice lounge.' "

I lick his cheek. "That's not a title, that's a 'will this do?' And I don't want to get into trouble with those people. I want to say something positive if I can."

My friend studies me quietly. I decide to treat him to one of my 'specials' and begin inching my way down his body. Taking my time. Making it good. His fingers twist and tangle in my hair.

"Hey! What about your article?"

"Oh, SOD the article. I just wanted to get you here and USE you a bit. Have you got your SKYPE turned on?"

Yes, he did. And, yes, we did. And no, we didn't need to visit any 'voice lounge', either. :-P

I never did find out what happened to that article.

*****

Dear Zosie! or "I Love My Alt"

"Anything she can do,
I can do better
I can do anything
Better than her

"No, you can't.
Yes, I can. No, you can't.
Yes, I can. No, you can't.
Yes, I can,
Yes, I can!"

Zosie is a fat slag with a massive ARSE.

love
Squashy ♥ ♥

Thoughts on SL Partnering - Part Two

Marriage in Second Life is a mystery to me. Partnering is a puzzle. I'll admit to feeling vaguely disappointed that no-one over asked, but it's a virtual disappointment; skin deep, at best. And if you knew me In-world you'd know that I change my skin on a regular basis. Funny how I can't do that in Real Life. Funny how the Virtual World isn't real. I hate to break it to you -- *whispers* -- but neither is your marriage.

There I've said it. Now I'm going to be blunt:

An SL marriage is a pale imitation of its first life cousin; a ghost of a marriage. I simply don't get it. It's not the fact that the cake's inedible; nor the inconvenience of the entire sim crashing at the *exact* moment when the bride turns to her betrothed and says, ' I do'. It's the desire to do "the married thing" itself that baffles me - that whole "RL is RL and SL is SL, and yes, I really am that stupid and determined to make my SL mimic RL as closely as possible" mindset.

Many of the SL blissfully married will insist they enjoy fulfilling relationships in RL as well, and blah blah blah, but I'm still not buying it. Why would you even bother if you had all that in RL? Why would you risk your perfect RL by being unfaithful in SL? 'Cos that's what you're doing, make no bones about it. Don't even try to pretend otherwise. I'm unfaithful, you're unfaithful, we're all unfaithful. That doesn't mean there's no justification or rationale for it; I know of plenty of SL affairs that keep the RL marriage ticking over, and that has be to be better for the children, right? (not including those fugly prim babies, don't even get me started on those. LMAO). The virtual arena provides countless outlets by which one can compensate for something IRL lacking and I, for one, am grateful.

So, we've established that your RL is less than ideal and you've chosen to find yourself a virtual mate. By all means you can choose to believe that your digital wedding is as valid as the real thing, but don't get mad if I smile indulgently at you. [It's what I do when I'm not carping in my blog. ;-)] I'm sorry if it offends you that I don't take your SL nuptials as seriously as you do.

A couple of weeks ago, my neighbour down the hill was intending to pop the question to his girl. Sadly, it all went 'tits up' as such things will. Squashy, being the generous and altruistic soul we know her to be, tried to cheer him up by persuading him to join a naturist club. They danced, chatted and flirted together quite happily, as naked as the day they were rez'd. It appeared that a delicious entanglement might ensue, of the friendly yet casual kind. As far as she was concerned, he was going to be within her SL for the 'forseeable'. A week or so later, and things had gone ominously quiet. A discrete 'cam' down the hill revealed him to be kneeling on the floor, bound and gagged, whilst his new partner whipped him into submissive shape.

I know I should feel pleased that he's happy again, but it all happened so gosh-darned quick! A week's worth of dogging around and he's back in the jug again - only this time it's with RLV in case he makes a strike for freedom. ALL communication with his erstwhile acquaintance has ceased. This is what happens when couples partner up - they drop their old friends like so much crumpled confetti.

Then there's the fact that SL partnering actually closes the door on any number of other meaningful connections that might be made. This is due to the fact that hubby and wife have effectively removed themselves from the "game". Let me put it to you as follows (cue leafy metaphor and purple prosiness) :

I'm alive and open (woot!) and just about anything might happen! I perceive within and around me the potential flowering of an infinite number of exciting possibilities; an extraordinary, multi-scented garden, with a million sunny glades just waiting to be discovered, and a thousand beguiling, shadowy nooks for me to explore. It doesn't matter if I tread on an occasional ants' nest or get my pixellated but perfectly-formed ass snagged on a thorn; it's a temporary blip. Can I help it if I want the whole garden and not just a single bloom? Why *shouldn't* I have it all?

SL marriages get old pretty fast. Inevitably, many will pretend otherwise by going down the old BDSM route (yawn) but, like the marriage itself, it's hardly a convincing substitute for its RL equivalent. Presumably its role is to alleviate the sexual boredom factor for ten minutes, which must be severe. I'd imagine that even the most devoted couples eventually tire of the same old poseball routines.

Surely within this extraordinary second life we might connect with more than just the one person? Shouldn't we at least try? Squashy and I enjoy variety and appreciate difference. We refuse to be boring and we're never ever bored.

FUCK SL PARTNERING!