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I pull the laptop from my bag, type in my password, and wait for the thing to gear up. My hopes of jumping into entertainment in my game are crushed when the screen flashes with an update bar. Great. I throw my head back. A notification sounds from the speakers of the laptop. When I swipe my fingers left, the Discord chat with PurplePixie comes to life.

My mood immediately brightens. A year ago, if someone had told me that I would be this excited for a message from a woman, I would have told them they were insane. Not that there’s anything wrong with women. I prefer my occasional dalliance rather than a whole situation, which involves crying, followed by the inevitable speech about what a bastard I am for some reason or another. Honestly, there’s only so many times you can have that conversation before you realize transactional is better.

They come over, we have a wonderful time, they leave after breakfast, everyone is satiated and satisfied. No screaming, no yelling, and no emotions.

Then there’s Pix. After meeting her through an acquaintance on the dark web, we quickly realized our two coding styles meshed well for tracking the worst of humanity. It worked out quite well, really. What started as the occasional sharing of information bloomed into a friendship. It wasn’t until recently that we realized that we live in the same city.

She was bragging about the special she got at Moons Palace. I couldn’t help but order the same. Now, we order once a month and enjoy a game while we eat. Not that we eat together. She’s made that very fucking clear. I’ve tried on so many occasions to meet. She insists online only. The scar on my side twitches as the disappointment floods my veins.

Hey, what are you doing? I’m having a problem with some fucking teens and could use some backup.

She wouldn’t have such a problem with teenagers if she didn’t talk so much shit to them. Honestly. I should tell her to probably reel it in, but by god, it’s entertaining to hear the things she comes up with.

I’m waiting for the fucking update.

Snore. You’re a real prick.

Whenever I truly need you…you’re MIA.

Hey, I’d be there if it weren’t for the continual updates.

You could have updated earlier. You have no excuse.

Nice. I get no leniency?

Nope.

You usually do the updates earlier.

Busy night?

My brother is having girl trouble.

Apparently, it’s now my trouble too.

Ooh. I love trouble.

Break the pot! Spill the tea!

Was she cheating?

Do we need to start digging holes?

I know some pig farms.

God, I love her spastic humor. It’s like a cocker spaniel on coke, given the ability to speak. Every word—pure gold. Her dark humor has me chuckling as I pound out a response.

Nothing like that LOL

No, my brother’s out of town and gave me orders to make sure she’s safe.

What do you mean safe?

Safe sex? Or not funny, serious we may actually need a pig farm kind of safe?

Not funny. Serious. But don’t need a pig farm yet.

I’m glad you’re there then.