The prevalent preoccupation with the physicalis curious in light of one of the oft-totedadvantages of the 'net: the ability to interactwithout physical preconceptions. It's not that'netlove is blind, just that you see only what youwant to see.
Drag Net
The vast majority of 'net users are men.Straight men. Straight men who aggressively seekwomen interested in having 'netsex with them. Yes,the men are men. But so are many of the women.
In the literal sense, there is a preponderanceof transsexuals who hang out on the local IRClesbian channels. "I guess the criterion for beingon it is that you live as a women," says"Riffraff," a Harvard student The lesbianchannels are plagued by men masquerading as women,who lurk either in order to attract a woman orjust to genderfuck. Stories abound of 'netrelationships where the two members have met, onlyto discover that their respective genders do notcorrespond to what had previously been reported.
"Spaceboy" began having 'netsex on AmericaOnline, an access provider with its own chatnetwork. He didn't log on as himself at first.Instead, he and a females friend created acharacter who claimed to be a sex-positivebisexual woman. "Her name was Natalia; she waskind of like Sharon Stone in 'Basic Instinct.' Weboth really got into 'netsex that way. We wouldhave these threesomes where we would go into aprivate room and have a sex chat with two otherpeople. Although I guess it would be a foursomesince there were two of us." They cruised as thecharacter for weeks before deciding to reassumetheir respective genders and cease collaborativeefforts.
"Sidhartha" is a four year IRC veter-an whoclaims never to have had 'netsex "for real,"meaning he has never gotten off on it. He and afriend occasionally goad others into performingfor them. "Sometimes my friend 'Hee-Haw' and Ilure unsuspecting people on IRC into privaterooms to have fake netsex. It's really funnysometimes, the shit people are into. 'Hee-Haw'either pretends to be a jock or a drag queen witha read silk kimono, fuzzy mules and a cigaretteholder. Of course, they could be faking at theother end, too."
All-lesbian channels try to ensure accurategender representation by requiring that thosewishing to participate pass a preliminary test.Such tests are not foolproof, though. Riffraffactually failed one while attempting to communewith the community: "They asked me what my brasize was, and I didn't know, 'cause I don't knowhow bra sizing works. Then they asked me what thedifference is between OB and Tampax. I didn't knowthat either, 'cause I don't use tampons. Then theyasked me what jean size I wear, and I gave themthe men's size, because I wear men's jeans."Riffraff herself is not immune to suspicionregarding the gender of lesbian channel lurkers;one night when it seemed to be full ofmasquerading men, she grew frustrated. "I'm inlove with a woman in Arizona," she reveals. "Wemet on the lesbian channel because I asked ifanyone knew what a Pap Smear is. She was the onlyone who responded."
All Botted Up and Nowhere to Go
1:30 a.m. I log on as "FM" tochannel #netsex. Of the 45 visible users,44 seem to be men. I estimate that roughly thesame number of people are watching the channelinvisibly and sending private messages to otherusers. The charming repartee beings immediately:
Me:Hi.
Them:Hi, beautiful, want to marry me?
What do you look like?
Are you from Harvard?
Hi, are you wearing panties?
Please, I love you.
Deciding that excellence in research is notworth harassment, I switch to channel#hehe. The boys follow. Ten of them. We hita communication barrier: I want to talkabout 'netsex, they want to have it. I recallRifraff's complaint: "What woman in her right mindwould want to log onto a straight sex channel?"This is worse than a final club party.
2:00 a.m.I search for solace andinteresting conversation on #bdsm (bondage,discipline, sadism, masochism), running intolines such as "Chives turns to pudding in hischair." I check out some MIT channels. only to bechased by a frustrated man from #netsex.He finds out my phone number from my "finger"information and threatens to call if I don't talkdirty with him. I send some choice obscenities hisway and tell him he's a psychopath. He leaves mealone.
2:15 a.m.I strike up a conversation with"Zeb", the least offensive of the people who keepmessaging me based on my apparent gender. He'sfrom Oklahoma. So is my ex-boyfriend. We chat.After half an hour, he informs me that he isfifteen-and-a-half years old. I nearly have aconniption. He is kind of sweet, though, so I keeptalking. Unfortunately, Zeb turns out to have theunpleasant habit of continually asking me tomasturbate at the computer. Apparently, he cruisesfor women jacking off on the 'net, and collectsthese experiences for future reference. He