Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Introducing Remy*

And so, it seems, I am dating someone. There was a long long period of grieving, during which I sensed some hovering at my peripheries, which I ignored, of course, because I was never going there again. And .. maybe ... a little ... because I was waiting for The Boy Who Left to come back.

There was a lot of hanging around in my sky palace, only coming out to work and concentrating on building. But the ultimate purpose of Second Life is interaction, and I had friends tapping on my windows and knocking on my doors to get me to come out.

As established, I have always made my Second Life busy, to avoid the notion that I was waiting for someone who wasn't coming back. I saved landmarks, thinking that one day we would go explore them together. Whole sims have disappeared in that time, places I never got to see. During that time, a friend left a noob in my care. Perfect traveling companion, wide-eyed with wonder, and that was me, too, since I'd neglected to actually go anywhere for so long.

Remember that minute ... the one where you realise those words "[insert favoured avi's name here] is online" are the sight that gladdens your Second Life? Well, I had one of those, and it threw me for a while. What about The Boy Who Left? What about Never Going There Again? Am I that fickle? I have issues with the Toy Husband crowd, was I about to become one?

And if that weren't enough, the other contenders must have sensed something in the air, because I was suddenly sorted for suitors >.<. The next phase was an ugly one, involving missteps, lack of confidence in my own judgement, and a last small cry from the heart to The Boy Who Left ... which, it turns out, was me flailing my cartoon hand one last half-hearted time, because once I'd sent it I suddenly felt free to choose a new direction.

Some avis got hurt during the writing of this column, and the fallout continues. For that I am immensely sorry, though I'm told my apologies are superfluous. I do not, it seems, always come out smelling like a rose.

But I have gained a treasured companion, and a vast sense of joy, even wonder at the possibilities our little grid offers those who approach with a sense of adventure. I am happy, and I'm rather in favour of happy.

*Names have been withheld out of respect for avis who do not blog and do not necessarily know they're being blogged about.

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