*Ping*

I visited my aunt in San Francisco for the first time when I was 20 years old. Her house was perfect with creaky hardwood floors and an overgrown back yard. It wasn't big or small, just narrow. I remember the computer was tucked into a nook at the back of the house. It was private and that made it perfect for conversations online with boys I didn't know.

I was not computer  or social media savvy. It wasn't called 'social media' yet. It was just strangers talking to each other through typed words.  I was young and fairly naive but I  didn't know that yet.

I loved going into chat rooms. The anonymity and the group setting and even the amusing tactics men used trying to get me to have cybersex was a new kind of entertainment.  The more I explored the rooms, the more I found myself looking forward to the *ping* of a message being sent to me. Specific attention was a constant craving back then.

When I used my handle, I was sassy, flirty, funny...and yet, still...invisible. I didn't have to worry about what other people thought about my weight or if they thought I was pretty. They couldn't see me and I equated that with being safe.  It was perfect.

And terrible.

I 'met' Jason in a chat room. I was on a roll with my cleverness. In the steady stream of conversation scrolling up my screen, my handle was present in nearly every line. I was having fun being someone no one knew.  And then he *ping*'d me.

He was sassy, flirty, funny...and chose to talk to ME. He made me feel seen, heard and understood. He made me feel important and like he cared. And he knew it.

I developed a crush. If I heard the computer *ping*, I responded like Pavlov's dog. Every time so eager to be acknowledged.

:Hey babe, did you get it to send?
:Hi! :) yeah, my aunts comp can do it
:i'll send it now ok?
:kewl. cant wait to see

He had asked me to send a picture a long time ago, but I didn't have a scanner. While visiting my aunt, I'd used hers and eventually I was able to scan my picture in to show him. Finally, after a few weeks of consistent chatting, I pressed 'enter' and time stopped while I waited for him to respond.

I never heard from him again.

Eventually I decided to call Jason. He'd given me his phone number early in our IM conversations telling me  I could call him "some time if you're up late at night".  It was early evening when I felt brave enough to confront him.

He answered and when I told him who it was, he got very quiet. I asked what happened the day I sent my picture.

"Oh, yeah...That. Well, I don't like girls that are big. So....I don't really want to talk to you anymore."

I felt my heart break into a million pieces. I immediately went cold inside and after a moment, I said something like, "You could have mentioned that earlier, " before hanging up. That might not be exactly what I said, but I know I didn't defend myself.

I still have the picture I sent to him. I'm wearing a tshirt with a pun on it and I'm grinning, caught in a laugh shared off with someone off camera. My little cousin is in the foreground, head to toe in homemade fingerpaint the same shade as his eyes. I'm holding a paint brush just in front of him, a smiley face circling his belly button. Being silly, having fun, feeling good.

And then he *ping*d me.
Reality collided with fantasy and I learned you can be hurt from someone you've never seen. Jason was unfortunately the first in a long line of internet interactions with men. Some of my experiences were good, some I just thought were good.

Eventually that line led me straight to the one that counts and I can look back without the sting of hurt. I can look at that picture from a lifetime ago and focus on the smile, not who I sent it to.

I know I don't have to defend myself either. Because this is just who I am and I trust that.