Despite never having met my teenage love interest, there was one instance where he managed to somehow appear more real and central and in my life, like when a ghost decides to become a poltergeist and starts moving shit around. That was when my internet crush sent me a package of gifts in the mail. I didn’t realise it at the time, but limiting my interactions with this guy to MSN Messenger, ICQ and the forums of a fantasy roleplaying game kept the entire relationship as a… fantasy. As something not real. That could be sectioned off from my real life when it became too uncomfortable, or threatened to expose some truths about my sexuality. Even the rare phone calls, his voice crackling through my Nokia with a breathless, American accent, were less than real. They were also exciting and stressful and I missed every third word.
So when a package of stuff appeared out of the blue, I opened it up in my room (or the caravan I lived in out the back of my parent’s tiny house to be precise) and had a small panic attack. There was a gorgeous letter along with it, where my name had been written in painstaking calligraphy with blue pen, on some kind of bright, spiral stationary. There was a lot of feelings in the letter. It was super teenage. I felt uncomfortable and flushed while I read it, but that wasn’t what freaked me out.
There was a chunky man ring, which I loved, despite the fact that I am definitely not someone who can wear rings. There was… a man bracelet I think?
And then, underneath it all, there was a Playstation.
And this is what freaked me out. The idea of a Playstation was somehow too big, too real. If I wanted to play this, I would have to explain to my parents where the Playstation came from. It was a big white box of reality. So I gave it to my friend Bob.