Or do I?
I shouldn’t be sitting here in silence wondering if I’m going to regret the decision to turn him down.
“Rach?”
Damn it.
“I’m not freaked out,” I begin to explain. “I just don’t meet people.”
“Ever?”
“Not usually.”
I hit a few keys on my keyboard, trying to track his IP address, but I come up blocked. It’s not unusual for many gamers to have tons of protection on their systems, but I’m usually able to infiltrate them with a few keystrokes.
“What do you do for a living?” I snap my jaw shut the second the question leaves my lips.
“Will knowing that change your mind?”
Is he purposely being evasive? Is his question to my question a red flag, or normal since I’d have done the same thing?
“I think getting to know you better might help some.”
“So it’s a no for now, but not a no forever?”
I shrug as if he can see me. I never game online with active video. My avatar is very similar to what I look like in real life, but people are very hard pressed to find actual images of my real person. It’s a way to keep me safe, and honestly, I find it creepy to have stuff out in the cyberworld that makes it easy for people to stare at, judging and thinking they know me when we never had any sort of personal interaction with each other.
“Are you purposely avoiding the question?”
“I work for a small company downtown.”
“That explains everything,” I tease.
“I guess you could consider my work computer related.”
That helps to explain the government level firewall he has.
“What about you?”
And now I want to avoid the conversation just like he did, but I opened the damn door.
“Same.”
“So computer related? Do you create software? Designer?”
“I mainly do research.”
It’s pretty close to the truth, but I’m never going to tell some man I met online what I really do.
“Working from home.”
I stare at my screen even though the words were spoken. Both of our characters are standing in the middle of the field, the quest we were on completely forgotten when he asked me to coffee.
Those last three words didn’t sound like a question. They sounded knowledgeable.
Or am I just being the cynical person I’ve become since learning just how easy it is to lie to people online?
Cybercrimes are an increasing problem with the loads of data primarily online, and I refuse to be a victim. Although I don’t feel like I’m being catfished, I can never discount the possibility.
He asked you to coffee, not for your social security number.
“I work mostly from home.”
“Man, I wish I could do that. Not having to leave my apartment would be amazing. Nothing but pajamas and Door Dash for days.”
I chuckle because apparently, I’m living his dream.
“It’s a pretty sweet gig.”
“What company do you work for?”
“I’m an independent contractor,” I reply immediately, and just as quickly regret it. It’s too much information.
“So, you’re the epitome of success. Nice.”
I smile, unable to keep my lips from tilting up. I know my life is amazing. I know there are tons of people who wish they could do what I do.
“Any animals?”
This is a common question, right? Or is it weird he asked about pets before even asking if I had a boyfriend, girlfriend, or husband?
“I have a cat. What about you?”
“I have a bird. I wonder if they’d be friends.”
“Aren’t they natural enemies?” Is this another sign?
God, I’m driving myself crazy right now.
“Maybe?” It sounds like he’s actually contemplating it. “But you won’t even meet me for coffee and you’re wondering if our pets will get along? Who’s being overeager now?”
“Asshole.” I chuckle because he’s got me there.
“I have a question.” Here we go. Nothing good comes from those words. It’s almost as bad as I’m not trying to offend you, but… “I know you aren’t ready to meet, but what about giving me your number? So we can text during the day rather than having to wait until the evening to chat on here.”
I grow silent once again, but my fingers fly over my keyboard, already making an account on a popular chat app.
“Fair warning, I’m kind of addicted to memes and animal videos, so if you aren’t interested in getting bombarded with those, you might want to say no.”
And now he’s aware of my kryptonite?
“I love animal videos, but the memes that make me laugh the most are actually pretty offensive.”
It’s his turn to laugh. “Thank God, because I’m the same way.”
“Really offensive,” I clarify. “Dark humor, extremely sexual, and of course ones that make me ask too soon? Because if you can’t joke about the horrors in the world in real time, I think people will go crazy.”
“Did we just become best friends?”
“Maybe,” I answer, but my head is firing off all sorts of warning signs.
He’s so agreeable. Through Orc’s Realm we’re so compatible, it’s growing scary, a little too coincidental.
Would it be the same in real life? Is it possible, just by pure luck I found a guy online—something my parents are convinced would never happen—that is my perfect match, a complete reflection of myself in male form?
I really need to talk to Sarah about all of this, but she’s pro-dating, and I know she’d tell me I was a fool for turning down his offer of coffee from the start.
“So, your number?” he prods.
“I can’t give you that.”
“Maybe I should stop ask—”
“Are you familiar with the TalkToMe app?”
“No.”
“It’s an app that allows you to chat without disclosing any personal information.”
“I didn’t know that an app like that existed.”
“It’s rated one of the safest apps there is.”
“Is it like one of those apps that conversations disappear from? One the kids are using these days to sell drugs and engage in prostitution?”
“I don’t think so.”
“So it’s not an app that hides conversations so people can cheat on their spouses?”
“How would I know? I just created an account.”
“Just for me?”
“I’m sorry?”
“You created the account just so you can talk to me? I’m flattered.”
And there he goes
