SLIGHT SECOND LIFE – How Women Are Like Computers And Why There Is Absolutely Nothing You Can Do About It

Shocked Computer Nerd

A few years ago, I clicked on a hyperlink which led me to a page declaring : “Congratulations on reaching the end of the internet. You may now go out and get a life”. This was such an amazing revelation that it caused me to physically flinch and spill my Jolt Cola all over the remnants of my Dominoes Meat Feast Special pizza.

After a moment of dazed wonder, I thought “Good Idea. Let’s give it a try.” After some gnarly and exhaustive research on Google I formed a pretty good idea of what to do next. When a young man acquires what they call a “Life” – you just grab it apparently, there’s no hit points, achievements or credit card details required – it’s a good idea to install a sort of female sidekick called a Girlfriend.

So Let Me Get This Straight. I'm Not Allowed To Offer You Money For Sex?

After a little thought, I decided to upgrade Lucy from Gaming Buddy 10.2 to Girlfriend 1.0. It was a little disappointing to find her avatar sleeping, but I instant messaged her with the idea anyway, in case she was just laying low. This did not go down well at first for two reasons.

a) She was sitting next to me at the time, and apparently had been for two hours

b) She was under the impression that she already had been my girlfriend for several weeks and that I was dutifully respecting her feelings before getting down to the physical stuff.

Looking back on it, that did explain her sudden disinterest in what up ‘til then I had regarded as our favourite game : Oglewhacking. This involves typing three of the least likely words into Red Tube’s search engine to see if you can get one reference. “Teenage Vampire Nuns”, “Naked Leapfrog Vortex”, “Butch Lesbians Smiling” etc. Don’t bother trying that last one, by the way. There are no pictures of it anywhere in cyberspace, never mind pornographic ones.

Despite some initial frostiness on Lucy’s part, it seemed like the warm, fuzzy blanket my sudden attention had wrapped her in allowed her to brush aside my initial Faux Pas. I was later to find out that this assumption was entirely and tragically wrong.

Meanwhile, there was my brand new life, with a brand new girlfriend embedded in it. But there was a problem with her. Not with her hardware, you understand. I was getting to know that very well, entering into it in quite some depth. Often experimenting with numerous peripherals. No, it was in her software that the difficulties lay.

Lucy’s previously impeccable functionality began to be seriously impaired by some malicious code called “The Relationship”. It’s a bit like The Martix, only far more sinister. Like a Trojan Horse, it pretends to be something useful as it masks its hostile intent. So like any infected system, Girlfriend 1.0 began to behave erratically and unpredictably.

Connectivity became particularly problematic. A simple information request would, for no readily apparent reason, elicit no response. A second attempt would result in the same inexplicable ignoring of the handshaking protocol. Finally, applying the direct query “What’s wrong” would flag up the plain but audibly forced error message “Nothing.” Further probing would get “If you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you.”

Even the notorious and prehistoric “Syntax Error” gives you more information than this. Pointing out that her replies are diagnostically unhelpful only serves to make the Girlfriend 1.0 system even less responsive. The situation does not persist though, as the system will eventually default to a self diagnostic on The Relationship. Usually at three in the morning when you have work the next day and are trying to get some sleep.

It was during one of these sessions that I became aware of the folly of my assumption that Lucy had forgotten the faux pas regarding the initial “Will you be my girlfriend” question. This was, incidentally, a good six months after the event. Evidently, the memory of Girlfriend 1.0 is stubbornly unerasable. I tried scrambling it with sincere words and double overwriting with presents and foot rubs, but to no avail.

Admittedly the resulting output was garbled nonsense, but it still managed to contain the seed of my supposed guilt in the matter of whatever the hell she was talking about in the first place. Sometimes the whole network would crash spectacularly in a flood of tears. Then suddenly the erasure would appear to have succeeded, but like deleting something from Windows, it is really still there ready to pop up and haunt you at any time.

I Think The Words You're Looking For Are

Still, despite the difficulties with Lucy’s operating system her hardware was, as previously mentioned, top notch. It was obvious I would only be able to get my hands on more hardware like that with considerable financial outlay, so it was time for the platinum upgrade from girlfriend 1.0 to Wife (Millenium Edition).

To begin with, this was seemed to be the best decision I ever made. Installing Wife spreads peace and harmony through the entire LAN. But it is a deceptive short term patch and The Relationship Virus is still lurking in the registry doing its wicked work. The official visit to the registry office is no protection. Things eventually revert to Girlfriend 1.0, only infinitely more difficult to uninstall.

I put up with this for years until the hardware started to become a bit outdated and, on top of that, inaccessible. So the idea came dabble with Girlfriend 2.0 – also known as Mistress 1.0 to those uppity Mac users. Despite years of technical experience, it did not occur to me that running the two alongside each other might be unwise. The two are obviously incompatible on any platform. The two applications eventually detected each other and data flew everywhere, none of it complimentary or constructive. I had to uninstall one of them.

Unfortunately, Wife 1.0 beat me to it and uninstalled herself, deleting half of my Pay Pal account in the process, utilising a tool called Lawyer 2012. And what an incredible tool he was. By which I mean only that he was very good at what he did. The arrogant cock.

Now here I sit in my studio apartment. Not even any internet girls for company. Just my trusty old Palm Pilot.

© Copyright Michael Grimes 2013


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About thedailygrime

At that awkward age - too young to be a grumpy old man, but just acerbic and downtrodden enough to have an opinion. Read it here.

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