I was out in the world of the grown-ups this weekend. H and I went to a friend’s house for a lovely meal, with excellent wines. I didn’t drink too much – well, at least I was still able to stand unaided by the time we left.
Half way through the evening, the conversation turned to the subject of Second Life, and the whole idea of synthetic worlds. It took me a while to realise that synthetic worlds had nothing to do with crackly bri-nylon sheets. I am familiar with Animal Crossing because the kids play it. They talk casually to each other about “working for Tom Nook to pay off the mortgage” (I now know that Tom Nook is a raccoon, not a pimp, which was my initial hysterical response). Like the fossil that I am, I knew very little about Second Life, and in all honesty, I wasn’t that interested. Then someone mentioned in passing that your avatar could buy its own genitalia. From that point on, I was intrigued and appalled in equal measures. How would you go about such a transaction? Where would you go to buy them? Would you get to try them on? Would they stock the men’s in any size other than Large, Extra Large and Ewan McGregor? I was fascinated, embarrassingly so, and kept returning to the subject, long after the conversation had moved on.
According to my friend (who was suspiciously knowledgeable on the subject) everyone in Second Life is young, good-looking, with well-honed bodies and perfect teeth. I think it would be tempting to go there just to create a fat, ugly, middle-aged avatar that could spoil the party for the Beautiful People.
We are out again tonight (gasp!). I know it’s a Monday night, but, hey! Sometimes you’ve just got to throw caution to the wind! It’s another Wine Dinner, and this time all the wines are from the
H has already requested that I “leave the genitalia out of it” tonight, but I’m not sure whether that’s because he thinks such subjects are not suitable for public discussion, or whether he’s just embarrassed that I had never heard of Second Life before.