Jed Weintrob's creepy romantic comedy ''On Line'' is filled with scenes of soft-core cybersex in which lonely, unattached New Yorkers, riveted to their computers, coax one another to ecstasy without ever touching.If ever a phenomenon supported the notion that 90 percent of erotic pleasure lies in the brain, it is certainly sex by computer, which is essentially masturbation to the video equivalent of telephone sex.In Second Life, you can do just about anything you like; creating a character and making as many adaptations to this "avatar" and its environment as you can design – or as many as you are willing to pay other more technically gifted residents to provide you with.It's up to you what you do with that freedom, and how many Linden dollars – which can be exchanged for sterling with your trusty real-world credit card – you spend on it.Several other characters convene for collective bellyaching sessions in a video chat room for people harboring suicidal thoughts.The movie's mechanical, wildly implausible plot imagines what might happen when the players in this lonely game recognize one another off-line (most seem to live in the same neighborhood) and establish a shaky chain of connections and betrayals.
It only makes sense that cheating would follow this online trend, as well.
I gave him a shock of bright- orange hair, and a crisp white shirt, and I adjusted his height to about six-foot-four.
He looked pretty good, I thought; but he was still missing something.
But from the moment I first heard those dulcet dial-up tones and the hopeful purr that followed, the online experience was tinged with sexual possibility.
I remember signing into a Prodigy chat room and communicating with another purported teenager whose screen name was “slyweasel13.” My mother stayed seated next to me at the computer desk, so the chatting never turned explicit, but it was loaded with flirty winking emoticons that left me panting.