hendersonhouseofcards

The reality of simulated dating in the 21st Century

Dinner, first, Shaun says, or texts, since he is in Buffalo and I am at a gym in Boston, post-cardio and pre-yoga. Dinner, by candlelight. Which is romantic no matter the miles dividing me from him. And then he shows me how much fun we’re having at this candle-lit dinner.

 After dinner, an arcade, because where better but an arcade to go to after dinner, especially when the dinner is a first date, which last night’s dinner was, at least in the simulated reality of dating.

Am I winning?, I asked Shaun.

I’m letting you win, Shaun said, which of course he probably was, since letting the person with whom you’re on a date win is part of being on a date with someone.

In that reality, I’m not even 24 hours old, and I’ve already, somehow, reproduced. Twice. I know I’ve reproduced twice, because sim-me is responsible for a sim-Avery and for a sim-Aurora.

Neither sim-child came on this date of mine, with sim-Shaun, or, if the kids did, they are not included in the photographic evidence of the night sim-Will met sim-Shaun, evidence that Shaun (real Shaun, clearly) shared with me while sim-me and sim-him decided whether or not to have a second date, or, maybe more importantly, just where this first date would end.

Which it did, in someone’s apartment. Shaun’s probably, based on the decorating. I’ll have to build my house at some point. Is that how you do it in Sim-ville? You build a house and you decorate a house and you wait for someone to come home and pay all of your bills? Because if that’s how you do it, then I’m all for moving into Sim-ville, which is down the street from Who-ville.

I faked outrage when shown how much of a floozy I must be in Sim-ville, which may or may not be that far from the truth. I suppose that depends on how you define floozy.

Time moves fast in Sim world, Shaun said.

(I can’t even show you how fast, but I can show you what we did after, which I think we would, if there was a playground within walking distance of his apartment, or mine, which there is, kind of, just not one to which I’d want to walk late at night or at any time of day, really).

We’re cute together, even in Sim land, Shaun said.

I hope Sim-us will be happy, I said.

Of course. Look at the hearts swirling over their heads.

I wonder if in Sim-ville, you can tell the program that you’re happy and in love and enjoying yourself, or if the game decides for you, inserts hearts, tells you to stay the night, wishes you well, hopes you’ll stay.

 

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This entry was posted on January 3, 2012 by and tagged , , , , , , .

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