When the internet was connected by phones and displayed as bulletin boards, I was a young kid. My mother was a university professor who had access to some of the first terminals. I was bright for my age (pardon the immodesty) and caught on quickly, often praised for understanding more than others twice my age when it came to technology. Luckily Mom had to drive long distances to get to work and I had limited contact. But you’re smart enough to know that would change, right?

Soon the internet was no further than my local library. So I spent my Saturdays there, fixed on the pixels I saw on the screen and the unpredictability of each new session. Cool stuff was out there – and I was part of the elite few who were finding it.

Once I got to college, there were rooms of us on the early internet, gathered together, yet never speaking. I often wondered if the messages I was leaving were being read by someone in the same room, fantasizing about the pretty girls who graced us there. I realized the connection between quick, anonymous communication and sexuality early on, but was social enough to get some distance doing all the fun stuff college kids do.

During graduate school, Yahoo chat rooms were ALL the rage…with rooms for every fan and fetish. It was entirely unpoliced and deregulated. Nothing was out of bounds and users let their imaginations expand into abstract needs and wants. Think up the most twisted combination of [internet user + inanimate object + barnyard animal] and there were people camped out to sexualize that fantasy…patting themselves on the back for becoming “room regulars” just like patrons of neighborhood bars.

Despite being sociable and able to communicate with women, it was much easier to log onto a computer, camp out in a room, and cast pms at girls (or were they?) until you reeled in a willing partner. Just like at a bar, the pickup lines ranged from the wild and extreme “I know you want me to XXX on your XXX. Admit it! And pm me back” to the extra, super polite “I’m sure a pretty girl like you is getting lots of pms. If you just want someone to discuss fantasies, send me a message.” Back then you had to keep a list of interesting and willing buddies written down on scrap paper, remembering what rooms they liked and when they came on (I’m sure others kept more detailed notes, but that was too much work for me).

Think about it though. How were real women supposed to compete with a device designed to exploit relationship potholes. Have a fight? Wait till 3 am, sneak into whatever room the computer’s in, and there’s bound to be someone out there who just wants to get freaky. Once you almost get caught a few times, you have to start using computers outside the house to hookup. I have vivid memories of paying hourly rates to an out-of-the-way Kinko’s during some early morning hours just chat…and when that got too expensive I would tote the AOL disk to local colleges, installing and uninstalling the program EVERY TIME I used it. Sometimes returning the same night and going through the install process all over again! You do that long enough and chat isn’t enough, if you get my drift. But that’s another discussion.

Then there’s impact of today’s smartphones. Looking back it shouldn’t have taken a genius to understand that the big box with the wire to the world would get reduced to a little box that could connect from anywhere. And people do connect in the most obnoxious “everywheres”. My boss will bring a huge meeting, filled with out-of-state colleagues (not inferiors, equals!), to a full stop just to send a smartphone email that he “Can’t be reached right now.” Or a there’s my friend who went to the trouble of arranging a birthday camping trip for 10 people lasting only 24 hours, but feels compelled to drive towards cell reception in order to prevent a Facebook war between mere acquaintances.

I’ve gone through countless jobs over two decades, with no ability to stay anywhere longer than 3 years due to my constant need for information, stimulation, and feedback via internet. There’s just so much cool stuff to learn about. There are so many forum boards to debate issues on. There’s free porn. Let me repeat that – There’s FREE PORN.

The feedback loop of the process (internet addiction is, ultimately, a process addiction, right?) of checking around for new things on all my favorite sites…posting responses…watching videos…responding to messages…is grotesquely unique. And once I’ve gone through the cycle once, there are fresh news items, responses to my posts, furious adversaries fueling my debates, and some new laughter-inducing idiot getting his groin mashed. I get to do it all over again. And again. And again. And again.

Work piles up. Deadlines pass. Guilt begins. More time passes. I fudge something here and there. I lie about responding to a phone call. I accuse someone of never sending me a critical email. I get distracted from updating my calendar…which means I miss an appointment…which means I get a reprimand in my file…which leads to losing another job. My wife gets angry. I get defensive.

I can identify the killer in this whodunit, but I can’t imagine pointing her out to the police. Life without a net connection would be excruciatingly boring. Don’t worry though. Even my wife knows I need my friend, le Web, to find new job leads and cover letter samples.

Yet still I continue with no way to stop the crazy train of addiction. I’ve checked my Facebook 12 times since I started typing this…and I’m already typing this at work. There’s no one to blame but myself. Not my biology. Not my teachers. Not my parents. (Well perhaps my parents…but were they equipped to deal with this issue, really?) My addiction stops me from addressing this with my wife. I have no money for proper counseling about it. So instead I turn, again, to…..The Internet.

Thanks for the tips btw.
.-= Mary Jones´s last blog ..Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed is January’s movie at Alpha Omega Institute =-.