One never knows.
Belonging to a writing site is interesting. You get to write interesting stories and poems. They get posted and you receive a certain cachet from the acceptance and praise sometimes engendered. You gain new friends and acquaintances that add interest and a new feeling of worth to your life. Especially if you are older and retired.
You are learning that life has not passed you by. You still have something valuable to offer and you keep the interest in living necessary to keep you feeling young and vibrant, even if it isn't so true.
And young people befriend you.
That is the best of all. Oh, sometimes you run into the odd simpleton who does not talk to anyone over 30 years of age. They are a rarity. Most young people today seem to want to interact with anyone who can hold their interest. At least that is my experience. I have no reason to believe this is not true everywhere today. But it certainly holds true on this site of mine. I have so many young friends who express happiness in sharing time and interests with me.
The last thing you expect is that something truly dramatic will occur online.
Oh, we all know about the "drama" involved in the relationships formed and dissolved and reformed over and over between this young lady or that old trooper. Perhaps a real love affair online is formed. Sometimes they seem to last, but how is one to know if they disappear from the site and never reappear.
I have been closely aware of several love affairs on this site that have finally come to nothing. Sometimes the same fellow is involved in more than one as a serial lover and heartbreaker. Some people never learn whom they should fear and avoid. But that is not my affair. I am happily married. I need no online affairs.
However, I do need the online friendships I have formed. They have become essential to my present happiness. And the more innocent they are the happier I am. I adore my young friends and would do nothing to harm them or destroy what we share.
And this is where the truly dramatic came in.
A new young lady had requested friendship with me. I told her I would gladly accept her if she would only flip her avatar right side up. Artistic avatars are often found in my friends circle. I insist that my friends make the effort to give themselves an identity. But I was straining my head trying to see her avatar. As an artist she was being creative, but it was not working for me. She was willing to comply, and became my newest friend. I sent my usual pretty landscape post to her profile as a welcome and she replied with thanks.
Our friendship blossomed. We began opening a chat window every other day or so just to talk for 30 minutes to an hour. She was a performance artist. She was looking for her first big break. I listened and learned about the artist's life. And I learned that she was finishing both high school and working on college courses at the local community college. For a young lady of 18 she was bright and resourceful. And I felt a certain pride in knowing someone who might be very important someday.
Besides learning about her artistic ambitions I learned she lived on her own, but she had an ex boyfriend who was still a part of her life story. She had sent him packing but he was being obnoxious. There was little I could do. She was essentially anonymous to me. I knew she lived in New Mexico. I knew she was called Lou. And that was about it. Usually that was plenty. Online friendships were often anonymous. Just the companionship was sufficient. What a pity I had not known more about her.
One evening she came online and we chatted for about an hour. It was 9 o'clock my time when we parted that time. She told me she had got a job at an improv club. She would be starting the next week. Then she left to have dinner.
Around 11 my time she was back. She was flustered. She told me her ex had stopped by and they'd had an encounter. Apparently he still had a key and entered without her permission. She tried to tell me she'd had an accident when he tried to help her finish washing up dishes. She had broken a glass and cut herself. The ex had left quickly.
Knowing life I was sure this was not the whole story but first I wanted to know how badly she was cut. In the chat window she told me that it might need stitches. My first reaction was to send her to the ER. She said she would take care of it. I kept the chat window open. I could do nothing, but I could wait and be there.
Within 30 minutes she was back.
"I took care of it. I have a doctor friend. He stitched it up and gave me some meds."
"What meds? What did he give you?"
"I don't know. It's okay now."
So we continued our conversation for another 30 minutes perhaps.
"I'm feeling dizzy. I don't know what's wrong. I feel funny."
"Call you doctor friend right now!"
"There's no answer."
"Then call 911! Do it now!"
"Ummm, I cannt get to my phoneee....it's inn mm purrrse acrossss the rooommmm"
"Listen Lou! Listen to me! Get on the damned floor and crawl to your phone! Do it now! Hear me!"
I was giving her my best sergeant's command tone. As well as I could online, in a chat window.
"7hhlr8"
That was the last thing she sent. I was not frantic. But I could have been easily. I was just hell-bent on staying online as long as I was needed. My heart was beating and I hoped I had done all I could with what I had available to me.
I waited for about 15 or 20 minutes. I was watching the computer screen and not the clock. Suddenly someone came online.
"Hello, is anyone there?"
"Yes, I am. I'm here. What's happening?"
"This is Emergency. She said we had to talk to her friend. She kept saying it over and over. Do you know what happened?"
"Yes, I know. She cut herself. She went to a doctor friend. He stitched it up. Gave her some meds. Don't know what. How is she?"
"She is going to the hospital to get her stomach pumped. We think she reacted to something. Probably penicillin. And the guy who stitched her up did a lousy job. She was still bleeding. If she had not called 911 she would be dead now."
"I knew it. I forced her to call 911."
"Do you know her name? Are you a good friend?"
"I know only she is called Lou but her purse is there. I know that. I am a new friend. We only met online this week. But we are good friends."
"Right. Her name is Louise Stuart. She looks like an actress or something."
"Yes, she is. Thanks for your service. It means a lot."
"Thanks for yours. You know, you're a lucky man."
Belonging to a writing site is interesting. You get to write interesting stories and poems. They get posted and you receive a certain cachet from the acceptance and praise sometimes engendered. You gain new friends and acquaintances that add interest and a new feeling of worth to your life. Especially if you are older and retired.
You are learning that life has not passed you by. You still have something valuable to offer and you keep the interest in living necessary to keep you feeling young and vibrant, even if it isn't so true.
And young people befriend you.
That is the best of all. Oh, sometimes you run into the odd simpleton who does not talk to anyone over 30 years of age. They are a rarity. Most young people today seem to want to interact with anyone who can hold their interest. At least that is my experience. I have no reason to believe this is not true everywhere today. But it certainly holds true on this site of mine. I have so many young friends who express happiness in sharing time and interests with me.
The last thing you expect is that something truly dramatic will occur online.
Oh, we all know about the "drama" involved in the relationships formed and dissolved and reformed over and over between this young lady or that old trooper. Perhaps a real love affair online is formed. Sometimes they seem to last, but how is one to know if they disappear from the site and never reappear.
I have been closely aware of several love affairs on this site that have finally come to nothing. Sometimes the same fellow is involved in more than one as a serial lover and heartbreaker. Some people never learn whom they should fear and avoid. But that is not my affair. I am happily married. I need no online affairs.
However, I do need the online friendships I have formed. They have become essential to my present happiness. And the more innocent they are the happier I am. I adore my young friends and would do nothing to harm them or destroy what we share.
And this is where the truly dramatic came in.
A new young lady had requested friendship with me. I told her I would gladly accept her if she would only flip her avatar right side up. Artistic avatars are often found in my friends circle. I insist that my friends make the effort to give themselves an identity. But I was straining my head trying to see her avatar. As an artist she was being creative, but it was not working for me. She was willing to comply, and became my newest friend. I sent my usual pretty landscape post to her profile as a welcome and she replied with thanks.
Our friendship blossomed. We began opening a chat window every other day or so just to talk for 30 minutes to an hour. She was a performance artist. She was looking for her first big break. I listened and learned about the artist's life. And I learned that she was finishing both high school and working on college courses at the local community college. For a young lady of 18 she was bright and resourceful. And I felt a certain pride in knowing someone who might be very important someday.
Besides learning about her artistic ambitions I learned she lived on her own, but she had an ex boyfriend who was still a part of her life story. She had sent him packing but he was being obnoxious. There was little I could do. She was essentially anonymous to me. I knew she lived in New Mexico. I knew she was called Lou. And that was about it. Usually that was plenty. Online friendships were often anonymous. Just the companionship was sufficient. What a pity I had not known more about her.
One evening she came online and we chatted for about an hour. It was 9 o'clock my time when we parted that time. She told me she had got a job at an improv club. She would be starting the next week. Then she left to have dinner.
Around 11 my time she was back. She was flustered. She told me her ex had stopped by and they'd had an encounter. Apparently he still had a key and entered without her permission. She tried to tell me she'd had an accident when he tried to help her finish washing up dishes. She had broken a glass and cut herself. The ex had left quickly.
Knowing life I was sure this was not the whole story but first I wanted to know how badly she was cut. In the chat window she told me that it might need stitches. My first reaction was to send her to the ER. She said she would take care of it. I kept the chat window open. I could do nothing, but I could wait and be there.
Within 30 minutes she was back.
"I took care of it. I have a doctor friend. He stitched it up and gave me some meds."
"What meds? What did he give you?"
"I don't know. It's okay now."
So we continued our conversation for another 30 minutes perhaps.
"I'm feeling dizzy. I don't know what's wrong. I feel funny."
"Call you doctor friend right now!"
"There's no answer."
"Then call 911! Do it now!"
"Ummm, I cannt get to my phoneee....it's inn mm purrrse acrossss the rooommmm"
"Listen Lou! Listen to me! Get on the damned floor and crawl to your phone! Do it now! Hear me!"
I was giving her my best sergeant's command tone. As well as I could online, in a chat window.
"7hhlr8"
That was the last thing she sent. I was not frantic. But I could have been easily. I was just hell-bent on staying online as long as I was needed. My heart was beating and I hoped I had done all I could with what I had available to me.
I waited for about 15 or 20 minutes. I was watching the computer screen and not the clock. Suddenly someone came online.
"Hello, is anyone there?"
"Yes, I am. I'm here. What's happening?"
"This is Emergency. She said we had to talk to her friend. She kept saying it over and over. Do you know what happened?"
"Yes, I know. She cut herself. She went to a doctor friend. He stitched it up. Gave her some meds. Don't know what. How is she?"
"She is going to the hospital to get her stomach pumped. We think she reacted to something. Probably penicillin. And the guy who stitched her up did a lousy job. She was still bleeding. If she had not called 911 she would be dead now."
"I knew it. I forced her to call 911."
"Do you know her name? Are you a good friend?"
"I know only she is called Lou but her purse is there. I know that. I am a new friend. We only met online this week. But we are good friends."
"Right. Her name is Louise Stuart. She looks like an actress or something."
"Yes, she is. Thanks for your service. It means a lot."
"Thanks for yours. You know, you're a lucky man."
