I miss AIM


My screenname was W3bG3m20, because I was a baseball player. When I hit enter, my message was sent with the crack of a bat. I was cut from the freshman baseball team but damn that name was fresh.

I kept my hoes in rotation. There was the girl in my class who I constantly hit with the “This geometry homework sucks,” convinced that our mutual dislike for shapes and angles was indicative of something more, and would one day lead to us practicing some geometry of our own.

There was the girl who lived a few streets down and went to a different school that I never saw in person, whose screenname I’m pretty sure I got from my friend. (Not my proudest moment). She was always greeted with the classic, “Heyy :)” and rarely responded.

And then there was the girl from New Jersey, whose number I had snagged on the 8th grade trip to D.C. I don’t know what I expected out of her–I just liked talking to her cause she was hot. And I knew she was a little minx because she had a font like this. (In the interest of honesty I will admit that I didn’t actually get this girl’s number. Our groups of friends swapped numbers on a dinner cruise. I never said a word to her in person.)

The away message was my most refined technique. It was a subtle way to get sympathy, and maybe something more. I’d often leave the classic “…” or something cryptic like “I just can’t win.” Occasionally, I’d leave a song lyric, and it sometimes worked. Sometimes my hoes reached out to me, especially that little minx from New Jersey. Most of the time, however, it was my friends messaging me to assure me that the “Mr. Brightside” lyrics I’d left were “gayyyyyyy.”

This might all sound like a waste of time and energy. But I did have my successes. Once, the girl from my geometry class posted a segment of our conversation into her buddy info. For those of you who ever had AIM, you know that means she wanted to bang. It’s too bad I could barely talk to her in person.

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