I know him. I just don’t know his face.
“Do you know what? I think you’re spending all your time messaging that guy because he’s not actually real.” Jade hands over her half of the cash while I’m still frozen, staring at my phone.
My heart beats faster. “Are you saying I’m just talking to an AI bot?”
“No, I’m saying he’s a risk-free zone. You don’t have to deal with any annoying habits or worry he’s going to cheat on you or he’s going to make you feel like shit for having feelings.” She grabs our bags, and I follow her out onto the street on autopilot.
Is she right?
Why am I happy to spend so much of my time developing a relationship with someone who doesn’t seem inclined to actually ever meet me?
Maybe it’s because it’s the exact opposite of how I feel after a meaningless hookup. Those are all about the physical. Sometimes I feel like I’m simply a warm body, completely interchangeable. Any guy who showed up at the right time and said the right things would’ve been appreciated just as much.
But this? This is all about getting to know someone on a deeper level. There’s nothing physical about what happens between AntD and me. Our connection is all about our minds rather than our bodies.
We amuse each other. We explore each other’s thoughts. We actually care what the other person thinks.
What is it? A friendship? A relationship? A parasocial delusion I’ve constructed to avoid dealing with my trust issues?
I can say anything I want to him because he’s safe. He’s not part of my real life. He can’t hurt me the way Chad did. Can’tshow up at a bar with a new guy. Can’t make me feel small or wrong or not enough.
We’re nearly halfway back to our apartment, me carrying the bag with the maybe-cheese and Jade hauling the rest, when my phone buzzes again.
It’s a photo of JFK’s tarmac sign. Because of course it is.
He’s really keeping up with his fake rock-star persona because I happen to know that Anthony Devine has just returned from his tour to Australia and New Zealand.
But my heart isn’t pounding due to his talent at maintaining our standing joke.
The photo is AntD’s way of letting me know he’s in New York City. The same New York City I’m in.
My stomach does something acrobatic.
He’s here.
It’s been easy to keep AntD in my phone, where it feels safe.
But what if there could be more between us?
The possibility feels real. It’s there in every late-night conversation, every joke only we understand, every time he remembers some tiny detail about my life that I’ve forgotten mentioning. He pays attention.
Jade’s struggling with the door to our building. I help her on autopilot while my mind absolutely refuses to calm down.
What’s the worst that could happen?
Option A: He’s a forty-five-year-old troll named Gerald who lives in his mother’s basement and collects toenails for a hobby. At least if I meet him, I’d know that. Closure is closure.
Option B: He’s actually Anthony Devine? Ha. Sure. And I’m secretly Justin Bieber.
Option C: He’s just…normal? Some regular guy who works in the music industry and likes to joke about being a pop star? Someone who might actually want to date me. Someone this could be real with.
Option C is somehow the scariest.
I follow Jade inside and dump the grocery bag on the counter. She starts unpacking, and I just stand there, phone in hand, heart hammering.
What would I tell someone on the ShareYourGlow advice lightbeam right now? If some stranger posted:I’ve been messaging this amazing guy for weeks. He gets me like no one else. He just sent me a photo that means he’s in my city. Should I ask to meet him?
I’d tell them to do it. Obviously. That the bravest thing you can do is let something be real, even if real means it might not work out.
