Forays into iChat

I am the friend.  

On several occasions, I've had my fellow gals ask me if they could use my iChat to "try out their webcams."  I'm the Crash Test Dummy, the "How Do I Look in the Internet World," the "Gee, you're swell, K."  My comments via the webcam usually consist of, "You look great;" "He'll love that outfit;" and "Aww."  Of course, each of them are perfectly groomed and eagerly anticipating the chat with the long-distance boyfriend.  I, on the other hand, have lazily messed up my hair, washed off the make-up, and am happily clad in an ancient Cure t-shirt.... Really, I resemble Robert Smith more than the woman I am during daylight hours.

This is what happens when you're the single friend.  Nobody realizes what I do when I'm home alone at 11pm, 12am, 1am, 2am.....  I knit, I have horrible hair, I talk to my cats, I write, I read, I sing, and tonight I vacuumed.

For the first time, I talked via webcam with a member of the opposite sex.  Not just any member, though.  It was M.  See, M and I have been friends for years.  We met through work, and were simply sold on one another.  We saw one another off and on for years, traveled to see one another (we were separated by several hundred miles,) and it was happy.  Eventually, we fought, didn't speak, and that was the end of that.

Fast forward three years.  I'm out of an abusive L/T relationship, and M's back.  For the first time in years, I talked while looking at him.  There he was, on the other end of the internet, staring back at me and smiling.  It all came back, and I realized how much I care about him, how happy he makes me, and how much better my life is with him as a part of it.  I smiled and laughed with my whole person and the silly things he said and did.

No, there wasn't any nudity!  Flirtation, references to innuendo....  But no nudity!

So there I was, talking to the man I've loved for five years and can't ever tell.  He pauses, says he's going to bed, as it was 12am where he lives, and stares right at the camera.  I froze.  Out came this squeaky little goodnight and a wave. 

I waved at him.  I didn't blow a kiss, I didn't say anything sweet.  I waved like a moron.

His image finally stopped moving, signaling he had signed offline.  I stared at it for a bit; it was strange to see him again after all this time.  So, rather than watching chick flicks or having some giddy little fantasy, I did what my body compelled me to do:  I cleaned.

Aroused?  No.  Domestic?  Yes.  Is this some sign for what's to come of my life?  I'm 28 years old, cute-as-a-button, and should have my motor running after this conversation.  But no, no way, I'm off vacuuming my living room to work out my pent up sexual energy.  Some things in my life I don't understand, and vacuuming as a reaction to seeing M is one of them.  Is this symbolic?  Does he drive forth some desire for domesticity within me, or is the vacuum some Freudian metaphor?  Perhaps now with my floor clean, I can do yoga and really get out some of the pent-up frustration?  Or better, get in shape so when I see him....

Knit Note:  I am 3/4 done with my sweater.  Photos to come.

Small Town Note:  There is some bizarre metal banging noise outside.  It's 2am here.  It's not coming from my porch.  Doors and windows are locked.