""Turn it on,"" he said to me as he reclined on the couch, hands behind his head.
""It's too early!"" I said. ""Give me a break. I just woke up!""
""But I turned it on! Come on.""
He looked so cute in that blue shirt. And those jeans. And he had that smile that just... ugh... gets me every time.
""Fine.""
So, at 7 a.m. and with a hairstyle reminiscent of a tumbleweed, I turned it on.
And boy, did I turn it on—the video feature on Skype, that is.
While studying abroad in London this past semester, I kept in touch with a friend from UW-Madison who was less of a friend and more of a ""wait-'til-I-see-you-in-person-I'm-going-to-ravish-you"" kind of guy.
Yeah, we liked each other.
But because of the six-hour time difference, we found that the most convenient moments to talk were early mornings, my time.
This actually worked best for me; it was quiet in the apartment, I could enjoy my breakfast and I had a class at 9 a.m. anyway.
""Talking,"" however, is the operative word. I enjoyed communicating via audible words, but when it came time to hit that little blue video button and broadcast my face to a guy thousands of miles away from me before noon, I wasn't too happy.
Nevertheless, I did it. I did it because I enjoyed seeing his face and it gave us the most realistic form of interaction we could have at the time. But hell, it sure came with its consequences. The moment our faces popped up on one another's screens, I could only think of one thing: HOW MANY BUSES DO I LOOK LIKE I GOT RUN OVER BY?! One day, as a result, I had the following early morning conversation:
Guy: ""How was your day? Do anything cool?""
Me: ""Yeah. Went for high tea, saw a show..."" Why do my eyes look all buggy? Am I related to Shrek? ""...got dinner at this Italian place. A good day.""
Guy: ""Nice. What show?""
Me: ""‘The Phantom of the..."" What is going on here? My nose looks like it's taking over the screen. Too close, Bonnie. Too close. ""...Opera.' Really good.""
Guy: ""Yeah, I saw that on Broadway once. I love it when the chandelier almost falls on the audience.""
Me: ""Yeah, same. It's really..."" Stop fidgeting! Why are you fidgeting? You like him. Stop being nervous. It's gonna look all blurry on the screen! ""...dramatic.""
Finally, I worried myself into such a paranoid huff that I had to take a break.
Me: ""Hold on a sec. I'm gonna go to the bathroom.""
Guy: ""OK.""
I rushed over to the mirror, hurriedly took my hairband out and flipped my hair over. Volume! I need volume! Then I darted over to my dresser and rummaged through the drawers for anything black. Quick! The camera adds 10 pounds! After running around the room with the confused energy of a remote-controlled car, I settled back down in front of my computer, ready to take on the pixilated image of myself.
Guy: ""Did you just change?""
Me: ""No..."" Crap. ""...Oh! You mean the black shirt? I was wearing that under my sweater.""
Guy: ""You were wearing a sweater?""
Me: ""Yeah.""
Guy: ""Oh.""
IN THE CLEAR! I AM IN THE CLEAR! YEAH, BABY!
After my silent victory, I quickly realized we had talked (or something like it) for a good hour and a half and class was approaching.
Me: ""I've gotta go. I'll talk to you later?""
Guy: ""Same time tomorrow?""
Me: ""Yeah.""
Guy: ""Cool.""
I ended the video call and began to stuff my notebooks into my bag. Just as I did, I heard the familiar ring of Skype, signifying a written message had been sent to me.
I opened it.
Guy: ""Next time you give yourself a ‘secret' makeover, remember to move the computer away from the mirror. Talk to you again soon! ;) ""
Damn, was he good.
Do you have your own share of Skype stories? Tell me your funniest at gleicher@wisc.edu!
