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There was no meeting guys around campus, no striking up a conversation with someone in the cafeteria, no clicking with a friend of a friend at a party. I should also say at this point: This was it for me in the dating department. Later in college, gay.com released a revamped messaging service, which made it easier to "preview" guys and weed out bad matches ahead of time. "Straight" from the all-lowercase logo craze spaces between words still a big no-no, they couldn't even live with the space of a period - had to close it up even more, with the overlap on the C. Giving some awkward excuse, I walked quickly back to the dorm. I started backing away when his hand ventured too far, and his tongue pushing in deeper made me feel weird about what I was doing. The groping and kissing was awkward, me wanting both everything and nothing to happen. We sat on the edge of his bed (no couch), he offered a beer, and I talked, knees shaking, about not really being out yet. A photographer in a tiny studio crash pad. "Wanna come over and hang out?" I walked the seven blocks to his walk-up apartment. We chatted maybe 20 minutes before exchanging more photos via e-mail.
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One lonely Friday night a guy who lived not far (my ZIP code was in my profile) posted a "like" to my page. This led to my first date - really just a hookup without sex or even much kissing (does that still count?). That got me only crotch shots in return, so after a week I added a grainy obscure portrait. I soon found that no one, or only the crazies and desperates, respond to pictureless profiles, so I posted one with my face cropped out. No picture yet, just "College guy new to the city, looking for chat, friends, maybe more." I was nervous about that last bit, an enticement to I didn't know what. Planet Out seemed the most trustworthy mainstream portal, so I posted a profile. Once I got to college in New York, I didn't fear (as much) a wrathful backlash if someone from real life found me out online. "Fun," friendly logo huge fad to have no spaces between words notice the P and the O in the shape of a weirdly elongated ringed planet? I did, at 17. I had to get up for school the next morning, so it never went much further than that. I'd settle in with the most enticing, least pompous screen name, and my messages went like, "I just want so badly to feel another guy's skin," or "I wonder what it's like to kiss and hold someone I like." Just articulating what was in my teenage head. "Where in TX?" and "What are you wearing?" popped up a lot. "17yo closeted student in Texas here," I'd post, and the replies would trickle in. Guys would send their stats or whatever they were looking for into the public window in sporadic blasts, and the real exchanges would follow in one-on-one sessions. I never left AOL, heading right for the chat rooms night after night.
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The thing is, I never really got to the Web, proper. Unbearably slow as it was, late at night after I closed the French doors (ooh la la!) to the living room and drew the curtains to the backyard, I could go online, muffling the sound of the 56K modem with a pillow, and surf the Web unmolested and unafraid. Privacy was my main concern, but an added bonus was the old family computer gathering dust in the corner of my new room. Out of the small back bedroom where I shared a bunk bed with my brother, to a futon in the sun room of our house - a converted porch, actually. To preserve my sanity between sophomore and junior year of high school (defining "sanity" loosely here), I moved out. Pointiest logo ever every element ends in a sharp edge, even the cursive also, eerily reminiscent of the Eye of Providence symbol (i.e., God) on the dollar bill