Online love

16. Concerns.

Elena's vacation days were quickly slipping through her fingers, a decisive sign that she was enjoying them. Message conversations flowed regularly and they told each other their day-to-day details but they were still strangers.

When the young woman met with her friends, she wanted to tell them everything about her story, tell them about who he was, how excited she was about the this, how intelligent and talkative her Internet friend was, how naughty, how good looking he was and show them their conversations, to prove that her life was not as simple as it seemed. Then she thought logically and kept quiet. Oblivious to the truth, she showed an image of herself as calm and sensible, quite conventional. A good student, a good worker, not fixated on shaven-headed, drug-addicted boys like her local friends were, after all, who was going to criticize whom?
If she looked back over the past, she discovered that they had been talking for less than a month, but a whirlwind had already been produced inside her. She had many concerns with all this, she wanted to ask him what he really thought of the situation, he had already told her that he thought it was crazy, but she did not give importance to his answer because it was quite superficial, of course it was crazy, they had met online, they had not met in person and had only seen each other's bodies, not even their faces. To say it was crazy was redundant, like saying up or down, Elena wanted to probe more, she wanted to look through his eyes to see herself, what else did he think of all this, why did he decide to talk to her, had he talked to more girls and was she herself the only one who answered him, or was she the only one who clicked with him the most, did they trust, to the extent of each other, themselves?
She exhausted herself by asking the same questions, if not with these words, then with some similar ones, but in the end they all meant the same thing, for this reason she ignored asking them directly to him, it was not convenient for her to exhaust him and she did not want to show him more importance than she received from him. She convinced herself that this way they were fine, she enjoyed and challenged herself with their conversations. She had never written things of the kind she was writing now. She noticed how he wrote, without emoticons, without spelling mistakes and told things in an original way. It seemed to her that he was one of those people who knew when to make a joke, when to speak accurately, when to talk about something serious and when to move on to erotic talk. In the end, he was the one who, unconsciously, managed the dialogue between the two of them, she would run in his footsteps but always felt that he would vanish.

She tried hard to make him think the same about her, but he never said anything like that to her, she did not know what he thought. At times she was satisfied with what she wrote, other times she demanded herself that her words should form more intelligent, more decisive answers. She wanted her off-color messages to reach the erotic but without falling into the vulgar, she wanted to excite him, but not to seem unpleasant. She wanted to act as a mirror of what had been said before but with a filter of improvement, she wanted to be original, to paraphrase the same movements but changing the order, to look for the right synonyms and for him to be able to praise beyond her body, also her narrative, her jokes, after all, the small particularities that formed her way of being and acting.