Messages we want to send to the buddies we used to know

My friend asked me a provocative question the other day.

“Chunko, can we stalk my… My friend asked me a provocative question the other day.

“Chunko, can we stalk my ex-boyfriend from any of your old screen names?”

Wanting to be of assistance, I affirmed. I remembered one of my old passwords, opened a new Instant Messenger window and prepared to type. She considered the options.

“Ask him if he’s dating anyone. No, wait, just say ‘hi’ first and see if he responds. And change the font. Make it purple, bold and italic, kinda skanky if possible. Perfect.”

OvertZealous2283: Hi.

“Oh my God, Chunko, why did you say that? I can’t believe you would say that. Never mind. Sign off.”

XboyfrendX: Hi

At this point comes the silence, the bugged-out eyes, the terror. Somewhere, somehow, XboyfrendX is typing. You don’t know where he is, who he’s with, what he’s doing. But he’s typing, the glowing window says, to us.

But what, oh what, could you possibly say, ex-girlfriend pretending to be someone else on a screen name from seventh grade that no one remembers while making your friend type so you can claim it wasn’t you?

OvertZealous2283: What’s up?

“Good, that’s good.”

[Five minutes pass.]

XboyfrendX: Who is this?

Oh no. This tactic was unprecedented. XboyfrendX is a man who knows what he wants. He doesn’t take crap from anyone. His font is Times New Roman — a classic and safe choice.

XboyfrendX has posed a fundamental question to OvertZealous2283: Who is this, indeed.

I paused, and asked my friend who she really was at her essence. Maybe my humble hands would be able to type out the greatest secrets of her soul, to heal these open sores of humanity. Maybe this stalking session would heal the world. She pushed me out of the way.

OvertZealous2283: Don’t you know who this is?

XboyfrendX: I’m sorry, should I?

OvertZealous2283: Are you dating anybody right now?

XboyfrendX: Who is this?

More time passes. We pace, cry a little, meditate on the best options and question whether or not there’s truth in honesty.

OvertZealous2283: Are you dating anybody right now?

He doesn’t answer. The cruelty. The waiting.

Is he dating anybody right now? Is he? Is he?

All of a sudden the sound of a shutting door splits our ears. XboyfrendX fades and disappears from the buddy list. He’s gone, flying away to whatever greener pastures he may find or need. It’s over.

My friend laments. She wonders why her ex-boyfriend wouldn’t respond to her. Well, she was pretending to be me — me in the seventh grade.

Don’t be sanctimonious. Maybe my friend sounds like a loser, but we all do it. We all check up on those people who intrigued us from freshman year or from high school.

When we sit at our computers, the first thing we do is right-click on the screen names of those we are stalking and analyze the changes in away message and personal profiles.

He or she could be insinuating something for you, as you reread the Sarah McLachlan quote that has just been added to the red and blue profile. The away message reads simply “out,” torturing the Internet stalkers we are.

I love reading away messages. I haven’t talked to at least 90 percent of the people on my buddy list in more than a year.

We will be grandparents, I feel, still checking away on our instant messenger lists. I consoled my friend, reminding her that XboyfrendX didn’t have to be polite to OvertZealous2283, because she shouldn’t have been trying to trick him in the first place. I told her all this instant messenger stuff was backward and wrong, that if she has something to say, she should just pick up the phone. I told her that Instant Messenger was not a viable form of communication. Then, the impossible:

WayBackWhen: Hi

WayBackWhen: Do you remember me?

Could it be? My high school crush of three years I never managed to capture after all those wistful hallway glances and strategic after-class hangouts. I became slightly giddy and strangely nervous all over again. And I didn’t know what to say.

So maybe Instant Messenger can’t save the world, I thought, but it could bring me true love. I prepared the perfect response to the question, painstakingly crafting every word. This was my moment; I would finally win his heart.

“You’re right, Chunko, this Instant Messenger stuff is stupid.”

Then my friend signed off.

Rachel Chunko will gladly send you all her old screen names and passwords if you e-mail her at rpc973@pitt.edu.