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I told him the song was and wasn’t about us, save a few careful lines.
The ride back to his one-bedroom apartment didn’t prepare me for what I found inside.
It wasn’t love at first Tweet, but the attraction our conversations and Google searching generated caught me off guard. Here’s a word you’ll never read about in the more restrained online love stories – masturbation. Later that day, I woke up to a text message from him.
I didn’t think it would go any further than an unrequited crush. I mean, how else are two people – separated by thousands of miles but who nevertheless share immeasurable bursts of affection and passion – supposed to connect with each other? “I love the sounds you make,” he wrote, and he wasn’t talking about my Martha Generic impersonation.
And slowly, over weeks, he was learning more from me than just dirty talk.
We talked all of the time, it seemed, through every medium we could get our hands on: instant messages, text messages, Facebook, Twitter, Skype, cell phone calls, work phone calls.