Ariel and Ag - Just Chatting By Karma I describe one of my cyber-relationships. Since my recent acrimonious divorce and relocation into a one-bedroom utility apartment - the former being a direct cause of the latter - I have been reduced to two rather inexpensive passions. My first passion should be obvious to any reader who recognizes my byline. Simply put, I love women with muscles. Or, in the inimitable and succinct phrase of Joe’s, "I think women with big biceps are really sexy." I especially love those women who have the self-confidence and self-respect to not hide their muscles and strength, but to display them proudly. I write stories about fictional women who have this sort of pride, putting my own particular and peculiar twist into the stories to satisfy my own personal likes (interests? fetishes? obsessions?) I send these stories to various webmasters who, with varying degrees of enthusiasm, publish them on their web pages. I, in turn, read stories by others, voraciously devouring the works of Spectator, Emish, and Collector, among others. I browse the many and varied worlds of Diana the Valkyrie, enjoying the chat room, message boards, news groups and galleries. I examine the photos and artwork, marveling at the abilities of some (I am especially enamored with the works of Coyote) and recoiling with disgust from the works of others. Late into the night I sit in my darkened room, hunched over my keyboard and monitor, searching the web for those pages that fit into my fantasy world (sites which, thanks to Steamer, are getting fewer and fewer in number as time goes by). I sit and read and ogle and download, often with Wagner, Beethoven, Strauss or Tchaikovsky blasting in the background. In this realm, I am Karma. On other nights a different person lurks at the keyboard. This person spends time on the Net to the strains of Mendelssohn, Mozart or Bach. At these times I am AgBullet, and I spend my time in Trivia Chat. Trivia Chat, for the uninitiated, is a Chat Room where Mensa-wannabe’s gather to test their wits and knowledge against other like-minded souls. As opposed to the world of fem-muscle, where 95% of the participants are male, Trivia Chat is equally balanced between men (or boys) and women (or girls). Age, sex, race, ethnicity, social status, income, religion - none of these matter in a Trivia Chat room. If you prove that you know your stuff, you become an accepted member of the club. Playing Trivia Chat is relatively easy. Someone asks a trivia or general knowledge question (IN CAPS) and everyone else tries to be the first to answer the q (question) correctly. Speling dosn’t kount, and abbrv r used. Whoever is the first to correctly answer the q asks the next one. This can go on... and on... and on... for hours. I have played from 8 p.m. until 3 a.m., and others play even longer. Between q’s we talk - about anything and everything. Bad puns abound, and are awarded with lol’s (laugh out loud) or ’s. Flame wars occasionally erupt, as well as heated arguments about questions and dubious answers. Hugs {{{{{{Ag}}}}}}}} and laughter lift spirits and warm hearts. We triviots get to know the other chatters. Gradually we learn about their personal lives - their age, sex, and their home state. Their interests, their marital status, their sense of humor (or lack of it). We celebrate birthdays, promotions, engagements and marriages. We mourn the loss of a pet or the loss of a job. We tease, banter, argue, joke, complain, vent, flirt or pout as circumstances and personal proclivities dictate. My fellow chatters are some of the best friends I have, and I do not know any of their names, nor have I met a single person face-to-face. I enjoy Trivia Chat, and I am good at it. I am blessed with a brain that absorbs information like a sponge and can regurgitate that information on demand (I also mix my metaphors). At times, when I am "on", my brain will retrieve an answer and tell my fingers what to type before my conscious mind has finished reading the question. For example, one fellow player once typed in his question: "WHO FOUNDED SAVANNAH IN THE EARLY 1700’S?" I typed "ogelthorpe" in about a half-second, not certain where the answer came from. It was correct, and I was rewarded with multiple "wtg"’s (way-to-go) and wow’s (wow!). I say all this not as bragging, but as a simple statement of fact. To set the record straight, I often forget to pay my electric bill and regularly forget to take out the garbage. I also forget to remove telltale lipstick stains and perfume smells from my shirts, which led to my previously mentioned acrimonious divorce. I do, however, remember how many home runs Babe Ruth hit (714), the author of "Cogito, ergo sum" (Descartes) and who led Japan during World War II (Tojo). Go figure. I am good. I have often been asked why I don’t go on Jeopardy and make enough money to retire at 35. Well, it’s because I have an unfortunate tendency to sweat like Albert Brooks and stutter like Mel T-T-T-Tillis when I am nervous. If I could ever convince Alex Trebek to never have an answer that starts with "D", "T", or "G", I would be rich. So, what is my point, and why is this autobiographical drivel on Diana’s page? I keep my two on-line personas rigidly separate. Karma never plays Trivia Chat; AgBullet never posts stories about muscular women. They each travel exclusively in their own world. Until now... One of my fellow trivia players - a regular, like me - is named Ariel. Over the last year, I have learned that Ariel is female, and that she lives in . She is single, perhaps divorced, and she has a cat. She is in her mid-30’s (I think) and works at a professional career that requires her to travel quite a bit. She is a neat freak and has a wicked, sly sense of humor that sneaks up on you and smacks you when you least expect it. She is also incredibly, incredibly intelligent. She is one of the very few chatters who can keep up with me, question after question, night after night, question after question. This sometimes leads to a plaintive lament from a fellow player: "ariel and ag - can we play in your sandbox too?" We have a friendly competition. The game is always more fun and more interesting when Ariel is there. Recently, however, our competition took an unexpected turn. One time a few weeks ago I was having a very bad night. I forgot who Doug McClure played on "The Virginian" (Trampas, as Ariel gleefully explained) and I missed the connection between "The Happiest Girl in the Whole USA", the Coen brothers and North Dakota (Fargo, as Ariel pointed out). Worst yet, when someone asked which two pairs of brothers had served as state governors at the same time, I triumphantly typed "bush kennedy", only to sadly recognize Ariel’s "bush rockefeller" as the correct answer. At this last answer, KHenryVIII typed in: "ag - ariel is really kicking your ass tonight " I sat there stewing, staring at the screen. In a fit of self-pity and a feeble bid to regain my lost pride, I typed: "yeah, but I can kick her ass at arm-wrestling" This was followed by a few lol’s and ’s (grin), but at first there was no comment from Ariel. Then it came: "I wouldn’t be so sure, ag " I stared at her comment, feeling a familiar stirring. The other players had moved on to the next question, but I paid no attention. Another line popped up: "I’m a real strong-armed woman " I struggled inside for a while, but then let it go. Part of me (Karma, rearing his ugly head) was thrilled, but another more prudent part of me was sure it was just another in a long line of bantering repartee. I played a while longer, then finally said my goodbyes and logged out. The next night I logged in again. It was a sure sign of my growing preoccupation that I went to see if Ariel was in Chat before I went to Armfan’s page to check out his new jpeg’s. That had NEVER happened before. Ariel was there, and I entered, exchanging {{{{{{{{{{hugs}}}}}}}} and ^5’s (high-fives) with those players I knew. I played for a while, and then could not restrain Karma any longer. I sent Ariel a private message (which can be seen only be the sender and sendee): "so, ariel, ready for our match? " I waited. Then: "any time, ag! " I sighed in relief that she hadn’t forgotten - or worse, ignored me. I certainly didn’t want to antagonize her by pushing the issue too hard. I know from past experience that there is a very fine line between expressing just enough interest in a woman’s strength and being perceived as a weirdo. I relentlessly shoved Karma back into his hole and just played the game. It was, as usual, fun, fast and furious. The evening passed quickly and around midnight I made my farewells. After several "nite ag"’s and a few {{{{{ag}}}}}}’s, I left the room. Just as I did, the screen popped up: "You Have A Private Message From: Ariel" Previously I had exchanged private "good nights" with a few other regulars, but never before with Ariel. My heart pounding and my palms sweating, I clicked to open the message. "name the time and location " Cool. I typed: "you think you can take me? " I waited. New private message: "I know it! " Very cool. I smiled and exited. The next few nights I never made it to Chat. Hey, armfan had 200 new photos, Coyote sent me his new drawings of Sarah and Emma, and Spectator had a new story posted. There are priorities. The next few nights after that, Ariel wasn’t in the room (God knows what she was doing). I moped, pouted, dreamed and worried. Finally, on a Friday night, she was there. I entered the room, receiving several {{{{{{ag}}}}}’s and a few "hi ag"’s (from the guys - we don’t hug each other). Then came, from Ariel: "hi {{{{{{{{{{{ag}}}}}}}}}} " Very, very cool! Again, I accessed private messaging and sent: "be careful - i’ve been working out " In a few seconds I received: "me too - watch it! " Well, that was the beginning. Since then, when we’ve both been on-line, we’re exchanging cyber-trash talk. Such as: "which arm? - loser " And: "you’re gonna go down " And: "yours may be bigger but mine are harder " Yes, we like double entendres, too. Our exchanges were fun, they were intriguing, and I never took them too seriously. In Chat, as opposed to "real" life, you can read anything you like into a statement. There is no body language to interpret, no tonality to statements to show sarcasm, humor or disgust. It was just the bald words on the screen. Eventually AgBullet’s exchanges with Ariel merged seamlessly and effortlessly into Karma’s warped fantasy world until it took some serious thought to determine where one ended and the other began - if there really was a demarcation line. So, last night we are both on-line. Questions are asked and answered, and ribald good humor prevails. Then, late, just before midnight, I get a private message from Ariel. I smile and open it. My smile slowly fades as I read it: "ag- I hesitate to even mention this... I will be in in early april on business... any ideas?" I stare at the message for a long time, thoughts whirling through my mind. Chat relationships are weird. What is Ariel is really a guy? What if, if she is a she, she is fat? Or ugly? Am I that hypocritical and shallow that her looks could make me overlook the substance that I know she possesses? Besides, what does she mean by "any ideas"? Maybe she just wants the name of a good restaurant, or a list of tourist attractions here. Maybe... I get a new private message: "ag - I know... what if you’re fat? what if i’m fat? would you still want to arm-wrestle? " I hesitate. Then I type: "very much so... I’ll kick your ass e-mail me at
with your hotel and room number when you get into town" I move the mouse over the "send" button. I hesitate... What should I do? E-mail me at karma_aw@yahoo.com, or answer on the arm-wrestling message board.