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To the bored girl on Chatroulette – m4w – 24 (State College/Scranton/World Wide Web)

Dear Bored Penn State Girl,

We were having an exceptionally engaging, albeit brief, conversation on ChatRoulette on Saturday night at around 10 p.m. Our time together was cut short by either a faulty connection on your part or a heartwretching glitch in the system. Damn you, Chatroulette; our future together was cut short prematurely. All I have left of you is not a name, not a smidgen of your personal life, but simply a frozen frame of your stunningly angelic smile. A smile forever etched in my heart. Such a captivating image never shall be bereft within me. I’ve tried to put you out of my mind. To move on to bigger and better things. But the shuffle of my mind keeps directing me to “bored Penn State girl.”

Our time together was merely happenstance. The click of the Next button on the Latino performing autoerotic asphyxia on himself a tenth of a second later and our tête-à-tête would never have ensued. I’d be paired with a fairly large man dancing emphatically in a tutu, while you would be agonizing over another prepubescent teenager, fixed on getting you and your friends to take your tops off. So much of life, it seems, is determined by pure randomness, a great man once said. It is the gift and the curse of our magical time spent together.

We may have only been acquainted with each other for the length of a She & Him song but here is what I do know — besides the fact that we both won’t mistake coincidence for fate. You nonchalantly cast a glance over your shoulder, peeking a look at your high-strung blonde friend dancing freely in the background. You were impervious to her wildly swinging arms; your attention was pinpointed at me. The trance was unfettered, and you and I both knew each other was, at this moment, the most significant thing in our lives. I gazed amorously in awe of your shimmering adorableness and occult, jet-black hair carefully prepared for a night on Fairmount Avenue. To be perfectly honest, I was resentful of the infantile Penn State boys who surely overlooked your grace for another stumbling Heidi Montag look-alike. Their inattentiveness to the unabashed beauty State College beholds is what most pains me.

You were 20 years old, eager at becoming of legal drinking age. You said you looked young — so do I — but I was old enough to see you have the charm of a siren. You said you were bored, but it was clear that I provided a needed spark in your night. Let me tell you, after spending the better part of two years in State College, you are what makes Penn State such a great place. Your blithesome attitude, your disenthralled curiosity in the world, your interest in chatting randomly with new people half a world away (or in my case, two hours away in Scranton): it is all symbolic of the fervent spirit of Penn State University. Frankly, it’s enticing.

Here is what little you know about me: I am a thin as a rail, with curly brown hair and deep blue eyes. I am twenty-four years old. I look like a first-year student, and you incorrectly guessed I was twenty-one. You know I had lived in State College up until January, and also worked at the Bryce Jordan Center. Of course, you couldn’t forget how I smiled in unison with you.

So, bored Penn State girl, if you’re there and I hope you are, I want you to know I miss the way you add an extra y to Heyy and Okayy. I’ll be here, spinning the chatroulette wheel again, hoping your alluring face shows again.

Love,
“Partner”

Chatroulette: for those who just haven’t found the love they’re looking for yet. And, Heidi Montag look-alike, you better seize the opportunity… this guy is quite the writer.