People I Want to Punch in the Throat (2 page)

For the first few weeks I would jump around from one chat room to another. Every time you entered a chat room somebody would IM you with “a/s/l?” That’s douchebag-speak for age/sex/location. The hard-core douchebags would add “What are you wearing?” to the list. The annoying thing was, all of this information was in my profile (except my attire), but those dipshits were too lazy to look. It just seemed so show-us-your-tits to me. Ugh.

As soon as I’d enter a chat room, I’d get bombarded with IMs asking me my age and location. I was very popular, and I couldn’t figure out why, because this had never been the case in the outside world. I’d reply, and then half the time the next question was: “What are you wearing?” I didn’t know enough to lie, so I’d reply: “Sweatpants.” My chat partner would go silent. Not the answer they were hoping for I guess.

I tried a local chat room a couple of times. Supposedly everyone in that room lives in the same city, and you go there mostly to hook up with local strangers. It creeped me out, because I didn’t like the idea of “running into” someone I might actually know. I could just see my neighbor IMing me, “a/s/l/naked?” The guys in the local rooms also put a lot of pressure on you to meet IRL (in real life), so I tended to stay away.

I liked hanging out in the twentysomethings room, which was full of, well, twentysomething people from all over the world. Most of the people in there were cool and they never asked me if I was naked or if I wanted to meet IRL. I spent many evenings chatting/typing with people.

One night I entered the twentysomethings chat room and I received an IM from a guy who asked my name and age. Ugh.
Can’t you read?
I thought. But instead I told him, “Jen, 24.” I waited for “What are you wearing?” but it didn’t come. Instead we had a really normal conversation. Well, as normal as a conversation can be when you’re typing to a stranger halfway across the country. He told me his name was Ebenezer. He was a year older than me and lived in Queens, New York, and had just graduated from NYU’s film school. We chatted about movies and current events and made each other laugh. A lot. He was really funny and dry. Sometimes humor is hard to convey when you can’t hear the tone, but I totally got his sense of humor.

He especially made me laugh when he asked about my screen name.

Ebenezer:
Tell me about your name.

Jen:
My name? I dunno. My parents gave it to me.

Ebenezer:
No. Not your real name. Your screen name. It’s … interesting.

Jen:
It is?

Ebenezer:
Yes. I’m curious about it. How did you come up with it?

Jen:
Well, I’m a writer, you know.

Ebenezer:
Yes. You mentioned that.

Jen:
And names are very important to writers. They give them a lot of thought.

Ebenezer:
Did you give your screen name a lot of thought?

Jen:
Of course! (I didn’t want to tell him, but I thought my screen name was extremely witty. I had worked very hard on coming up with an excellent screen name.)

Ebenezer:
So, how did you think of it?

Jen:
Well, I used my name: Jen. Duh.

Ebenezer:
Duh.

Jen:
And then I incorporated my [at that time] favorite book: Douglas Coupland’s
Generation X
. Remember, I told you I think he’s a genius and totally the voice of our generation. He just gets us. Y’know? (On a side note, I just Googled Douglas Coupland to make sure I was spelling his name correctly, and holy hell! He is an old man. Am I that old? Shit. We are so damn old, Generation X!)

Ebenezer:
Yes, yes. Maybe one of these days I’ll finally read that book.

Jen:
OK, so I took Jen and
Generation X
and I wanted my screen name to be JenX. Get it?

Ebenezer:
I think so. Is it like Malcolm X?

Jen:
Nooo, silly!

Ebenezer:
LOL. J/K.

Jen:
I’m Jen. I’m Generation X. I’m JenX.

Ebenezer:
OK, but that’s not your screen name.

Jen:
No. Because AOL said JenX was already taken, so they offered me Jenexxx. I was disappointed I was late to the name game, but then I decided AOL’s suggestion was perfect.

Go ahead, laugh at me. I know you can see what I did there—even if I couldn’t. I’ve told you numerous times I’m an idiot.

Ebenezer:
So instead of JenX, you took Jenexxx. You don’t see that those two names are different?

Jen:
What do you mean? They’re both just variations of the same name.

Ebenezer:
They’re not. One is VERY different.

Jen:
I don’t understand.

Ebenezer:
Jen X or Jene XXX.

Jen:
OH SHIT!

Ebenezer:
Ahhh. Now you see it.

Jen:
Now I see why you wanted to talk to me!

Ebenezer:
At first, yes. Kind of. But then you were funny and I liked talking to you.

Jen:
Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m wearing?

Ebenezer:
I assume sweatpants.

The next day I logged on and I heard “You’ve got mail!” It was an email from Ebenezer telling me he had enjoyed our talk and he hoped we could chat again soon. I wrote back. I don’t remember what I wrote. I probably said something like, “I’m not that stupid usually and I’m not a porn star, either, so if you think we’re going to have cybersex, you’re crazy.” And I’m sure he responded with, “Seriously, don’t flatter yourself. No one even mentioned cybersex. What is your damage?” This started an email exchange, and when we’d see each other online we’d chat.

He became my “friend,” if you can say that about someone you’ve never met. I didn’t even know what he looked like. His screen name was Ebenezer11423, and for the longest time I imagined he was a nice Jewish boy from NYU. It wasn’t until after countless emails back and forth that while we were IMing one day, he casually mentioned he was Chinese.

Jenexxx:
Wait. You’re Chinese?

Ebenezer11423:
Yup. You got a problem with that?

Jenexxx:
No. I just didn’t know you were Chinese.

Ebenezer11423:
I didn’t realize it was a big deal. I didn’t
think it was a big deal that you’re white. You are white, right?

Jenexxx:
Yes, I’m white. It’s not a big deal. I just imagined you were, too.

Ebenezer11423:
Why?

Jenexxx:
I don’t know. I guess I went with the straight-up stereotype: Queens, NYU film school, and a Hebrew name. My mind didn’t immediately go to Chinese guy.

Ebenezer11423:
Is this going to be a problem?

Jenexxx:
Relax. Of course it’s not a problem. But just so you know, I am totally not attracted to Chinese guys, so we definitely won’t ever have cybersex.

Ebenezer11423:
Hey, not to worry. I’m not attracted to girls in sweatpants, so it’s all good.

I found myself looking forward to hearing from Ebenezer and chatting with him. We talked a lot about our shitty jobs and our dreams of one day being paid for our creativity.

There was never any pressure to meet because he lived in New York and I lived in Kansas. It was a perfect pen pal situation.

Until December. When I was growing up in New Jersey, my parents would always take me and my brother, C.B., into New York City to see the Christmas lights. We hadn’t been back in several years, and that year they decided to make a family trip.

At first I thought,
Ugh, a trip with my parents? I’m twenty-four years old—I should
not
be going on a trip with my parents and my twenty-year-old brother!
But then my parents sweetened the deal. They offered to pay and take me to a Broadway play. I am a total sucker for
Les Misérables
—you really can’t see it too many times—so of course I agreed to go.

I debated whether to tell Ebenezer that I was going to visit New York City. I really liked being pen pals and I didn’t want to ruin it all by meeting. But then again, how stupid was it to visit his city and not call? It seemed so odd. Were we friends or not?

I decided to tell him I was coming for a long weekend and we should meet for coffee.

He freaked out. His exact words were:

Ebenezer11423:
If you think I’m taking you out on a date, you’re crazy.

Jenexxx:
Whoa. Easy, killer. Who said I wanted to go on a date with you?

Ebenezer11423:
I know you. You just go out with guys so you can get a free meal.

Jenexxx:
Relax. Nobody said anything about a date. All I said was we’ve been emailing each other for months, I’m finally going to be in your city, and wouldn’t it be nice to meet for coffee so we can put a face with the emails?

Ebenezer11423:
I’ll think about it and let you know.

Jenexxx:
Never mind. Forget I asked. Don’t do me any favors.

I was mortified and pissed off all at the same time. Who did this guy think he was? No one had said anything about a date. Everyone knows coffee is not a date. What a fucking asshole! We didn’t chat again for a few more days. Finally, I received an email from him laying out the ground rules for our meeting:

Jen,

I have to work on Friday, but I can come to your hotel at 6 pm. Since 6 pm is kind of late for coffee and I’ll be hungry,
we should meet for dinner. We’ll go someplace fun and unique to NYC. A place I’m sure you don’t have in Kansas. It’s called TGI Fridays.

We can go to dinner—you’ll need to bring money and pay for your own meal because this is NOT A DATE and I’m pretty busy that night, so don’t think I’m going to take you on a tour of Manhattan or anything like that. I’m NOT a tour guide. If you’re cool or whatever we could go get some ice cream or something after, but if you’re boring I’ll warn you there is a new episode of
Homicide
on that night and I’m not going to miss it if you’re boring, so I’ll just leave.

If you want to go, let me know. Here’s my pager number.

Ebenezer

To this day I am completely amazed I went to dinner with this yahoo. Either there had to be divine intervention or I was desperate to have potato skins without my parents. I still haven’t decided which it was. All I know is, I was glad Ebenezer was willing to give up his
Homicide
night, because I wouldn’t have given up my tickets to see
Les Mis
and I would never have gone to dinner with him and his life would be so boring now.

I wish I
would have
replied with the following:

Dear Ebenezer,

Where do I begin? TGI Fridays? Are you for real? You’re absolutely right. This is NOT a date. Especially if you are taking me to TGI Fridays. Are they so popular in New York City that you are delusional enough to think this is fine dining? Mozzarella sticks and wings are some of the best fare they have to offer. Plus, you do know that’s a chain
restaurant, right? There is one right down the street from my house. While I do live in Kansas, I don’t live in a sod house, so believe it or not, I have been to this classy establishment you mentioned and I’m not impressed. It is neither “fun” nor “unique.”

Honestly, I think dinner is a bit too much. That’s why I suggested coffee. Because it can be done in 15 minutes. And if I think YOU’RE boring I won’t have to sit through an entire meal with you AND spend nine bucks.

And why do you have a pager? Are you a drug dealer?

Sincerely,

Jen

Instead I replied with:

E—Don’t be such an asshole and don’t overthink it. You’re right, it’s not a date, so just relax and stop being such an idiot. You’re embarrassing yourself. Six will work for me and I’m sure I’ll have you home in plenty of time for
Homicide
. J

The day of our non-date, I finally told my parents what I was doing. “You’re meeting a man from the Internet?” my mom asked.

“Oh God, you are so desperate, aren’t you?” C.B. laughed.

“Shut up, C.B. You have to go and get your picture taken on Santa’s lap by yourself,” I sneered.

“What? Is that true, Mom? We’re doing that tonight?”

“Shush, C.B. I told you at breakfast that was on the agenda for tonight. Don’t worry about that now. It will be fun. Let’s talk about Jenni and this boyfriend of hers.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just friends online.”

“Does he know what you look like?” my dad asked.

“Kind of. I sent him a picture once. But it was kind of old. It was from college.”