My First Time

Making a first post, I imagine, is much like making the first move on a girl.

All the encouraging signs are there. It's just me and the internets, alone in my apartment. The lights have been darkened, music plays softly and the empowering buzz of liquid courage courses both through my veins and its circuits. The latter is a result of me spilling a bit of my scotch on the keyboard. My computer did not seem to like it. Perhaps the afterbirth is too oaky.

But we can disregard that. Everything is primed and ready. All that remains is the not unsubstantial obstacle that is the first move. But doubt, much like my compatriots, finds a way to sneak in.

Maybe the interweb has a boyfriend already. Across this great nation, millions waste their time on these things, these blogs, arrogantly believing that what they say is something unique that people want to read and optimistically believing that they will keep up this blogger-blogdome relationship until the death of the other does them part.

Maybe I'm misreading the situation and my first move will not be well-received. Maybe my overture will be taken for what it is: a desperate need for attention. Maybe my draping my arm around its shoulders will be met by a wiggle, a trip to the bathroom, and a transparent declaration that it's getting late. Or, perhaps worse, a "what are you doing?"

Maybe this is not a good idea. Maybe we'll wake up tomorrow, hungover, and realize our game of chicken went too far, and one is now stuck with the other. And people will talk, as they are wont to do, and say not so great things, and, within a few years, we'll be relegated to sitting in our living room, glaring at each other in obvious discontent, cursing the other silently for ruining both our lives.

A hundred--well, maybe just several-- reasons exist as to why not to do this. But you know what? Screw it. The information superhighway, despite or because of the scotch, seems to have a "come hither" look. At the very least, it's thinking to itself "why not?" We're both here, on my couch, and who knows, maybe we'll have some good-looking babies.

So here goes nothing.