Type Dirty to Me

Aaron had a nagging urge to be a of the personal-computer frenzy. It was springtime in the computer age and free enterprise was in bloom. Each day, it seemed, a newer, faster, more powerful, more up-to-date computer would come onto the market. Or go off the market. For a dedicated consumer like Aaron, these were times that made your palms sweat. He longed to plunge into the fray.

Every day, his former friends would regale him with stories of new wonders they had performed on their magic machines the night before. Then they would go stand in groups and talk in acronyms to other people with magic machines. If the tales told in these sessions were true, there were novels in progress, screenplays being mapped out, data being processed, important things being input and equally important things being output.

But Aaron was a practical man. Did he need this? After all, his best attempt at a novel had run into plot trouble in the third paragraph, and his idea for a screenplay had, of course, been stolen by George Lucas and corrupted into Raiders of the Lost Ark. He was also blessed with surprisingly little data. He did have a few record albums, but they were mostly rock and, by nature, defied categorization.

"If only I had more data, I could make this pay off," Aaron told himself. He just couldn't justify going out and plunking down the equivalent of two Kawasakis (or a Honda Civic or a month in Tahiti or a neighbor-killer stereo) for the privilege of owning something he didn't know how to operate and that, if he did, would no doubt wither from his paucity of data.

"Show me one practical use for the thing and I'll buy it," he shouted to his former buddies, who simply shook their heads and remarked how much fun Aaron used to be.

"Psst! Ya got a minute?" beckoned (continued on page 174) Type Dirty (continued from page 105) the computer salesman. "Feast your eyes on this." He held up a small box glistening with virgin shrink wrap.

"Inside this box is something called a modem. With this little number sitting on the dash of your computer, you can meet chicks."

Needless to say, Aaron was intrigued. Here, at last, was a truly practical reason for buying a computer. A pox on Lotus 1--2--3! The figures he wanted to manipulate had asset curves far beyond those of the ordinary spread sheet. The 1500-c.c. roar of the twin Kawasakis was little more than a whisper in his memory now.

Aaron gave the salesman a small plastic card and the salesman gave him a computer and a modem. Aaron rushed home to set it all up and, before long, he was on line, modem to modem, with a smooth-typing lady firefighter named HOTSTUF 35. A month later, Aaron, who since had changed his name to BULGE 151, and HOTSTUF, who turned out to be aptly named, got it on in a Grand Prix in the parking lot of a hardware store.

•

What changed our friend Aaron's life--and is changing thousands more lives like his every day--is a phenomenon known, loosely, as computer dating.

No, this isn't like the agencies that sprang up in the late Sixties and Seventies that claimed to be able to match you with the perfect mate. They offered little more than a high-tech blind date. The computer was making all the compatibility judgments; you were just along for the ride. This is something different--a whole new way of making the primal connection right from the computer terminal in your own home.

It was inevitable, of course, that the computer revolution and the sexual revolution would come together at some point, though most scientists had expressed doubts. Indeed, for a long time, sociologists had been worried about the alienation factor in microcomputing. Thousands of people's staring glassy-eyed at CRTs, they concluded, was bound to interfere with normal social interaction. No interaction meant no babies. The human race was in jeopardy. The great masses of people necessary for our lifestyle would disappear. First the crowds would go, then the audiences, then the spectators. Soon, such great institutions as stand-up comedy and state fairs would die.

Well, the experts needn't have been concerned. The basic drives are alive and well in the computer age. My personal studies have shown that long hours spent staring at a CRT have only a positive effect on my libido. In fact, the longer I stare, the more positive the effect.

So it's not surprising that once it became possible for computers to talk to one another, most of the conversations naturally fell to human concerns, primarily the alleviation of sexual tension. Man does not interface by shielded cable alone.

The cost factor helped move things along. In recent times, the price of computers has dropped sharply. It is now possible for almost anyone to join the chip-switching brigade for only a few Computerbucks. A Computerbuck, for those of you who don't own computers, is a variable denomination somewhat like a betting chip. Its value at any time is determined by how much you want a particular piece of hardware or software. Hardware and software come in discrete multiples of $100 bills; hence, the need for a device like Computerbucks, which can reduce your cost to practically nothing. Say, for example, you want a modem that costs $600 and your budget will allow only $400. That $200 difference is instantly converted to Computerbucks, which you can arbitrarily decide are worth far more to you than, say, Foodbucks or even Rentbucks. In the face of such a bargain, you buy the modem you want.

Fully equipped and shorn of only a few Computerbucks, thousands began to experience the joy of telecomputing. Systems were devised to enable these people to handle their CRT-induced desires. In the beginning, the systems grew naturally out of electronic mail, which itself began as an adjunct to data-base systems. A data base is simply a large computer crammed with information, accessible by way of the phone lines using a computer and a modem. Someone discovered that you could call a big computer, type a message on the system and then someone else, somewhere else, could call up the system and read the message you left. It was marvelous, it was instantaneous, it was anonymous. The last was the magic word. People have a tendency to let it all hang out when they're anonymous.

No one knows exactly how this got started. Rumor has it that late at night, when hackers were busy POKEing and PEEKing, strange glitches sometimes appeared on the screen:

Do You Like to do it in the Morning or at Night?

Such a message would take the average computer nerd by surprise, but the ranks of nerddom have swelled lately to include plenty of fully organic and operational human specimens, male and female. These pioneers, fresh from the singles bars, recognize right away the call of the broad-breasted puffpecker and reach into their bag of clever retorts, put-downs and general mating-ritual banter for a suitable response:

Why? Can't You Get It Up Twice a Day?

Thus, the dance begins. A connection has been made. Granted, right now it's just a couple of thousand dimly flickering lights on a screen. But you're actually talking to another person, not a machine. The potential is there.

As luck would have it, there were enough people who enjoyed computer trysting to spawn many dedicated on-line sexually oriented (S.O.) bulletin-board systems (B.B.S.). So I fired up my modem and took a tour. The first thing I learned was that you can't tell a system by its name.

Take the case of Gendernet. I ran across it while poring over the lists of hundreds of B.B.S. that have suddenly sprung up out of nowhere. It sounded like just what I was looking for: a B.B.S. specifically for the netting of the opposite gender. I was wrong. Gendernet turned out to be a system for transsexuals and transvestites. It is not a dating service but bills itself as an "information source for the transvestite, transsexual, spouse and support professional."

I am quite happy with both my sex and my clothing. But a good reporter couldn't possibly pass up an operation like that--especially when he realized that he was witness to an incredible statistic. After all, how many transsexuals do you know who own computers? One, two, three at the most, right? Well, assuming that that's about the national average for each person (and that some of us know the same transsexuals), even with the transvestite variable (we can't really know who's wearing what), there still don't seem to be enough transvestite/sexuals cum computers to support such a data base. Yet there it was. I felt a little like Kevin McCarthy in Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

As long as I was on line, I pushed a few buttons to bring up the menu. Every data base has a menu of possible selections: special files, programs, letters, recipes and assorted weird items. I chose "Ask The Shrink," an advice column for what Gendernet called T.V.s and T.S.s:

From: Sally W. To: Dear Counselor Subj: Sex With a T.V.

I have been Married to a closet T.V. For 15 years. He recently came out to me, and I find that having sex with him while he's wearing a Garter Belt, Nylons and a Bra filled with Quasi-Realistic Breasts is a real turn-on, and we have great sex while he's dressed like that. Lately, I've been feeling a little guilty about the way his sexual attire turns me on. Am I unusual? I mean that his dressing like that could affect me so. Also, we have oral sex quite often now and that's something we never did before. I'm not sure which of us initiated this new style, but I like it and so does he--both the giving and receiving. I don't mean that we don't have regular sex anymore; We do. But the oral sex is great for me and we usually end our session with "old-fashioned" sex.

From: Dear Counselor To: Sally W. Subj: Sex with a T.V.

You are every T.V.'s Fantasy. Please don't worry about your sex life with him if you are both enjoying it, and it sounds like you are. There is nothing abnormal about any sexual activity done by consenting adults in private. In answer to your question regarding whether you are unusual--well, yes, you're probably in a minority. It's too bad more wives don't share your imagination and love. Enjoy.

Frankly, I had expected a more perceptive answer from Dear Counselor. Doesn't he/she realize that Sally is in the majority: women who can recognize a good thing when they see one? What's got Sally knocked out over T.V.ism is the oral sex that's been coming along with it. Simple Pavlovian theory says that every time Sally sees her mate in high heels, she knows she's going to get her bell rung. It's a wonder she doesn't blow the grocery money on pumps for Prince Charming.

While all this may provide you and me with a chance to second guess the problems of strangers, apparently a real need is being served here. After all, before Gendernet, there was no place a computing cross dresser could turn for advice--and certainly his long-suffering wife was up the creek. The brave new world of computerized sexual frankness has opened electronic inroads to all sorts of communities.

Let's say, for instance, you're a nudist and your friend is a swinger. You want to get in touch with other nudists and swingers around the country. You and your friend have only a quarter between you. What do you do? You call Odyssey II.

If the folks on Gendernet seem to have only questions about their sexuality, the folks at Odyssey II have only answers. You say you like skinny-dipping in the open air? Odyssey II can line you up with the nearest clover-decked meadow and enough fellow knickerphobes for a Maypole dance. Or maybe you'd just like to get together with another nice couple for a little sushi and four-way sex. No problem.

In the growing (it seems) tradition of sexual B.B.S., Odyssey II has married two heretofore unrelated sexual proclivities. (Presumably, we will soon have the foot fetishists and the fellators banded together on the Hoofnmouth network, while the onanists and the heavy breathers chat on the Vibraphone circuit.) What it has going for it is a fair amount of style. You pay a fee for membership, wait a few days and you are sent a password and a handsomely prepared user's manual. All the information about you is coded so no one knows who you really are. The messages on Odyssey II's board are frank and to the point:

Sub: Chicago Action From: Fred G-4512 # 56 Looking for action in the midwest. Sex with men and women. Am 39 and ready with cock. Leave e-mail to # 56 Sub: Co/Needs mistress From-> Ken B-4545 # 45 W/Male needs mistress to train him to be a slave. Will obey every wish and command. Serve to please. Can travel. Leavee-mail to # 45

Sub: Hawaii, anyone? From: Robert P-8457 # 85

Mature {47 but look 37}, single, successful denver businessman enjoys good food, wine, music, Golf and the finer things in life. Desires female traveling companion for trip to Hawaii late may or early June. Object: Sun, Surf and Sex {maybe a little Golf}, all expenses paid. I'm just lonely and tired of playing the singles Game. Only requirement is that we be compatible and meet beforehand to ascertain same. Nothing kinky. Leave e-mail to # 85

Propositions here run the gamut from hot-tubbing parties to what one user described as a "tropical snorkeling adventure with optional sex."

•

It occurs to me that I may have been leading you to believe that all this computer phone cruising is a simple matter. It is not. At times, it is every bit as frustrating as the ordinary round of bar hopping. The pitfalls are many. To begin with, there is the computer itself. Most of those on the market are so new--and so new to their owners--that smooth modeming is out of the question. I have discovered that factories actually send you only every other page of an instruction manual. They keep the rest to read to you when you call them for help. This is known as technical support.

Familiarity with your hardware is essential. If you're going to try chatting up some of the girls on these lines, you'd better know how to snap your keys. No female hacker worth her code name is going to sit around waiting for you to dope out your owner's manual so you can answer her proposition. Life's too short, and telephone time is money.

Besides the modem, you also have to learn how to operate your communications program. A proper program is characterized by almost total convolution. To achieve a parallel, therefore, the instructions must be undecipherable. The instructions for my program, one of the simplest, run a full 15 pages. The program contains six primary options, 13 secondary options and ten tertiary options, each represented by combinations of one, two or three alphabetic characters. There are three uses for the letter T alone. All of this must be committed to memory.

Every B.B.S. has its own protocols and signals as well. You're subjected to endless introductions and bulletins and menus and lists of commands. There is no sense in trying to memorize these, since they will change with the next B.B.S. Commands, incidentally, are one-, two- or three-letter codes, lk ths. Aftr a whl u strt 2 thnk lk tht.

Another significant problem is that most of these boards are run by a single person on a single computer with a single telephone line. Indeed, anybody with a low-cost computer and a modem, plus a B.B.S. program, can start his own sex-talk circuit. The maintenance costs are practically nil (just a few Computerbucks), since you never call out; other people always call in. The drawbacks are that you have to maintain your system and you cannot use your computer or your phone line while your B.B.S. is in operation.

The consequence to the user of this kind of home-owned utility is that he can try for weeks to get on a system only to find that he has to apply for a password. Or that the system is just for gay carpenters. Or that the flesh pool is so shallow that he can't get a good match-up. Or that the board is simply boring.

The person who runs the B.B.S. is called a sysop, a truncated form of system operator. It can be fun being a sysop, especially if you like soap opera. You see, the sysop gets to sit in front of the terminal where all the action scrolls past. He can read anything you type in and everything your addressee writes back. He has unlimited power over the board. If he doesn't like your style, it's a simple matter for him to erase your name and password from memory. If you're the sysop on a good board, it's better than daytime TV.

I talked with a sysop on a good board called the Syslave network. The Syslave network is known as the kinkiest in L.A., a city where such a distinction rightly evokes awe. The B.B.S. is called Syslave because the sysops are slaves to their systems. Heh, heh.

Our sysop, Syslave #27, had some interesting statistics to offer. For instance, the odds. The board, at the time I talked with him, had 250 users, and only 25 were women. Now, unless we're talking very healthy women here, your chances of making a score are about equal to those of the guys in San Quentin. Syslave #27 claimed that usage of the system increased at certain times: for example, after Christmas, when everybody got a new computer. Considering some of the text found on this B.B.S., one might also suspect full moons and low tides.

There are actually seven boards in the entire network, including Syslave 500, which is more or less hetero, Barracks, which is heavily gay, Fraternity, which is light gay, and Leather and Lace East and West, which I felt it prudent not to ask about. All of these are naughty-naughty boards. If you're into candlelight and romance and nonaccessorized lovemaking, you'll feel like a brown shoe here.

Syslave #27 says he watches the action whenever he can, and no wonder. If you think Dynasty is hot, you should try the participatory drama unfolding on the B.B.S.

"I remember once we started getting calls from a woman in Atlanta named Peach 451," he says. "She began to correspond with a Los Angeles woman named Mom 125.

"After talking with her for a while on the B.B.S., Mom invited Peach out for a visit. Well, when Peach arrived, Mom was out on a date and Peach decided to take a stroll on Hollywood Boulevard. Peach, apparently, had a penchant for suggestive--well, hooker-type--clothes, and, of course, she was immediately arrested for prostitution. Eventually, Mom had to go down and bail Peach out. They got to be great friends, and they still talk about the party they had in the old firehouse when Peach would climb to the top of the firepole and slide down onto a waiting face at the bottom. Her thighs were chapped for weeks."

I am sure that Peach and Mom could be great fun. But to me, firepole antics do not spell meaningful relationship. I went in search of something a little less Barnum & Bailey. I found Marc the Martian's Mixed-up Matching and Message Machine.

MMMMMM#1, as it is designated, is typical of the mainstream computer meat markets. You begin with a questionnaire calculated to reveal to all who access it much more than you would tell a perfect stranger at any meeting. Sure, exaggeration is possible; so is lying. But if you want to get a righteous match-up, you're almost compelled to answer in total honesty. Garbage in, garbage out, as they say. Most of these questionnaires go on for much longer than the average college-entrance exam, so I've selected a few choice queries just to give you an idea of what you're up against. What, for instance, would your answers be to:

How would others rate your appearance? A. A Fox! B. Very Attractive C. Good-looking D. Average E. Not too bad F. Get the bag G. My mother loves me!

When having sex, I tend to be A. Gentle B. An Animal C. It depends on the Person D. Dominant E. Submissive F. Any of the above, Depending on My Mood G. Who me? Sex?

How do you feel about drugs? A. They should be taken only if ill B. Not for me . . . ok for others C. Ok for me . . . not ok for others D. Moderate use is ok E. Recreational use enhances life F. I love getting high G. I need them to get through the day

What are you looking for on this system? A. Not looking for anyone . . . just enjoying the system B. I am looking for an electronic pen pal C. I am looking for friends D. I am looking for someone to date E. I am looking for an occasional lover F. I am looking for a permanent lover G. I am looking for a spouse H. I am looking for someone to have an affair with I. I am looking for more than one of the above

As ego-probing as some of the questions may be, they are not the moment of truth. That comes when you ask the computer to make you a match. Depending on how bizarre your tastes are, some systems may not be able to match you at all. Others can come up with a few low-percentage matches. That means that your answers will match someone else's somewhere around 30 percent of the time. You can, by comparison, achieve a 35 percent match-up at the Trailways station.

Every once in a while, though, you can reach the high 50s, 60s, even 70s, and you know there are good times ahead. MMMMMM#1 provided, if not quality, the largest quantity of match-ups I encountered. It spit out 25 names ranging from 34 percent to 87 percent. That's 25 women with computers--and tantalizingly open electronic mail slots--to whom I could, if I were so inclined, drop a line and, in all probability, get an answer back. I don't know what your black book is like, but that's considerably more women than are in my active file. I chose a few high numbers and called up their questionnaires, selecting the option "answers only." My first choice was Cougar, an incredible 87 percent match:

-> Cougar

-> Manhattan Beach

-> CA

-> 19 Years Old

-> 115 Pounds

-> 5 Feet 6 inches tall

-> Times called: 3

-> Open mail slots: 3

-> Last called about 4 days ago

-> You matched up 87%

=> Female

=> Red eyes

=> Brown hair

=> Never married

=> White

=> Some College or Technical School

=> Kids--no! {Thank God!}

=> Yes, another brand of personal computer

=> Good-looking

=> It depends on the people involved

=> Drama/suspense

=> Psychotic/in need of professional help

=> Any of the above, depending on my mood

=> Recreational use enhances life

=> I like sports, but I'm not a Fanatic

=> Watching Richard Simmons makes me tired

=> Smoke cigarettes and pot

=> I like a drink now and then

=> Staying home in front of the fireplace W/Music

=> I am looking for more than one of the above

=> Rock, New Wave, Classical, Punk, Jazz, Rhythm-and-Blues, Opera, Soul

=> Creative writing, photography, stereo/video, movies/theater, travel, camping/hiking, sailing, scuba diving/swimming

You've got to be slightly intrigued by someone who says she has red eyes. I took the answer "Psychotic/in need of professional help" to be probably the most truthful choice for anybody on the circuit, but Cougar probably meant it to be cute. The most telling answer is the mysterious entry "another brand of computer." When you figure that there are more than ten major, high-consumer-profile computers listed and she has "another brand," you have to assume you are dealing with a rebel. I made a note to keep Cougar in mind for when I'm feeling wild and crazy.

What I was really interested in, though, was finding someone who could tell me what it was like to be electronically wooed, as opposed to the old hands-on method. No one sexually active for less than four years could tell you that. That's why I was happy to run into Vixen. At the age of 40, she could remember when men and women sought each other's physical company for a date. With 21 calls, Vixen was also a veteran of the B.B.S. If you went to the same bar 21 times, you'd be entitled to your own stool. On a computer system, they might give you an extra E-mail slot. Thanks to the miracles of modern science, I don't even have to describe Vixen to you. I can just punch a few keys and call up her stats:

-> Vixen -> Los Angeles -> CA -> 40 Years Old -> 112 Pounds -> 5 Feet 3 inches tall

-> Times called: 21 -> Open mail slots: 1 -> Last called about 5 days ago -> You matched up 62%

=> Female => Eyes of blue => Brown hair => Never married => White => Some College or Technical School => Kids--yes and one => Yes, Atari => A Fox! => Both should be faithful => Drama/suspense => Gregarious/I'd smile my way to the top => It depends on the person => Moderate use is ok => I like sports, but I'm not a Fanatic => Yes, I jog/work out occasionally => Smoke cigarettes and pot => I like a drink now and then => Long intimate dinners => I am looking for more than one of the above => Rock, rhythm-and-blues, new wave, top 40 country-and-western, classical, jazz => Skiing snow/water, dancing, sports, aerobics/weight training, electronics/computers, stereo/video

When I finally talked with Vixen, it was not so much a revelation as a confirmation of the potential of the computer dating systems. As a single mother and a free-lance writer, both time- and energy-consuming occupations, she was the kind of person who could take full advantage of remote-control flirting. And she did. Not only that, but she seemed to like it--even prefer it. Her handle, she said, appeared on a number of systems, and she had been corresponding regularly with several men around the country. Naturally, I wondered why she had taken to this new form with such enthusiasm.

"I like it because it's a level of communication that I haven't experienced before and because it's also very new. As a writer, I feel I have an advantage. I can put the right words together. For instance, I tried to pick a good handle, one that would arouse curiosity. I tend to communicate a lot with other writers. It's natural, because they'll be sitting using their computers as word processors and then they'll need to play hooky for a while, so they'll just switch over to telecommunications.

"Particularly when I'm working a lot, I don't have time to go out and circulate. This is a way of meeting people without even going out. It's very intimate in a strange way. People feel safer with technology than they do with each other. I don't have any anxieties about talking to a stranger, because I have time to compose myself and decide what my opening shot's going to be. There's no chance I'm going to get nervous and spill my drink down somebody's Pierre Cardin. I don't even have to get dressed up!"

That's one improvement over singles bars, but what about the reliability of the person on the other end of the line? Are people more truthful sitting at a computer terminal than they are sitting at a bar?

"I'm honest when I answer the questions," Vixen said, "but I find that a lot of people aren't. Most of them lie about three areas, basically: their weight, their age and their marital status. For instance, a man will log on as a single and actually be married. It often happens that someone will write to me and I'll look up his questionnaire and it will say Married but available, which is one of the choices you have. About 20 to 25 percent of my mail is from men who are Married but available. I think it's great if they want to call up and talk but not if they want to meet.

"I also find there is a tendency to be very honest in the so-called private correspondence on the board. You do get to know people at a certain level of intimacy."

And what makes that honesty and that intimacy possible between strangers?

"There's no threat, there's no chance of face-to-face rejection. If I have to tell somebody, 'No, I'm not interested in a relationship with someone who's attached,' he doesn't have to hear that from my mouth, so it makes it a little easier to be honest."

It's unclear at this point what effect the introduction of honesty into male-female relationships will have. It's certainly revolutionary; but, as usual, nobody has studied the long-term effects. We may find that it's destructive. In a way, for example, it allows people to be more callous in the conduct of their social life. On the other hand, a certain forthrightness may be welcome. What does seem to be happening is that roles are becoming equal. Words on a CRT have no gender. Traditional bowing and curtsying is at best awkward and strangely out of place in the formal, hard-logic environment of the computer. There is, for some, a tendency to come on strong.

"I've experimented with the degree of aggressiveness I can get away with," Vixen admitted, "as well as ways of dealing with men's aggressiveness, the kind that always made me feel vulnerable and uncertain. There are a lot of men who will log in and their first letter reads, 'Let's do it.' Now, I don't know what their success rate is, but I feel that people would try that a lot quicker on the computer than in a bar. In other words, they can experiment with that kind of come-on to see what the reaction will be. But basically, most men have their acts together about how to approach a lady.

"Just recently, I've been corresponding with a man who's a gourmet cook and a hypnotist. I told him to send me his latest low-cal recipe and he sent one one for garlic chicken. I sent him one back for gazpacho. Now we're negotiating about a glazed roast duck."

That certainly is a back-door approach. I haven't run into the old low-cal-recipe ploy in quite a while. But the question is, When do you graduate from gazpacho to coochie-coochie?

"I like these relationships to take weeks or even months before I meet the person. This guy might be interesting. He's more my age. I get a lot of letters from 20-year-olds who are 'into older women . . . can't wait to get together . . . you won't be sorry . . .'--that line.

"I usually delay the meeting as long as possible. If I've been writing with a guy for a while and he says, 'Listen, I really want to meet you. I think I've proved that I'm not an ax murderer or anything. Please, please have lunch with me!' of course, I have to consider it. But you know way before the meeting if the chemistry will work."

This time-frame expansion is an interesting idea, especially to those of us who have a tendency to rush into relationships headfirst. "An inability to postpone gratification" is the way the psychologists describe it, as though it were a dysfunction. But how do you get the fires burning with this well-tempered woo pitching? Is it possible to turn a girl on simply by tickling her bits?

Vixen found out it was.

"One time, I was left a very long and explicit letter by a guy who claimed to be an 18-year-old surfer and who, it turned out, wasn't. And although I was offended, because I had been played along, I did get off. I read it and I was aroused. I've found it to be astonishingly stimulating to read sexually explicit text on the computer. I printed out that letter and saved it."

•

So what is the competition like on these boards? Does an average guy have a chance with a girl whose weekly E-mail approaches 60K? Surprise! The meek are inheriting the phone lines. The great equalizer is no longer the Colt .45. Now, if you're fast on the keyboard, you can make the Eighties woman swoon. You can catch an eye with a deftly placed ellipsis or raise goose bumps with a sensuous comma--and all well before the lady even knows what you look like. Bulging muscles or even a bulging fly simply will not compute. If the merchandise isn't on the top floor, milady will quickly shop elsewhere.

"Most of the original people on these boards were computer-oriented," Vixen said, "but recently, there have been à lot of new people who aren't part of that clique of technocrats. Now you have people with much broader interest

"You get into those interests rather than concentrating on the usual surface elements of a person. The result is that I started to date a guy I never would have looked at twice because to me, physical appearance has always meant a lot; I mean, he wouldn't have had a shot! I find I'm more willing to suspend that now that we've gotten close over the computer lines. Now I can just enjoy a person-to-person relationship with him."

Best of all, on a dating-system board, your persona can be changed as easily as typing in a new one. If you're not getting the desired results, a change in one answer on your questionnaire may be all it takes to turn your luck--an advantage VIXEN is not loath to exploit.

"I once had on that stats that I liked 'health food' but I kept getting guys who wanted to take me to health-food restaurants. I love health food, but I hate the restaurants. So I changed it to 'French."'

The promise of the computer has always been to make our lives easier and more productive. In extending that promise to our sex lives, a new era in computing has begun. We are witnessing a quantum leap in sex accessibility unparalleled since the invention of the front-release bra. It's a great time to be alive.

"After all, how many transsexuals do you know who own computers? One, two, three at the most, right?"