Cyber sex was the reason many of us bought computers way back when. It was a glorious time. Texas Instruments was the top tech company, the Bay City Rollers were burning up the airwaves and Al Capone was making a name for himself in Chicago. Yep, 1999 was awesome for way more reasons than a catchy Prince song and the impedning millennial disaster that would sure kill us all, or bring us together in passionate, last-minute orgy of not giving a f*ck. Oh, and someone hit Stephen King with a minivan. Ha!
So let’s travel back to that magical time, possibly in a minivan, and revisit the best and most awesome ways to use the emerging internet technology (emerging since the 60’s or whenever) to pretend to bone a stranger who, for all you knew, was a dude.
Choose your Messenger
These days everyone’s all up on the Skype and the Google Chat and no one cares what happened to the people who used to run Alta Vista. Do you know what happened to them? Neither do the police.
Anyway, in 1999, anyone who was anyone was chatting on ICQ. Why have video chat when you could have text chat and you were easily identifiable by a 9 digit number? It was easy to search for anonymous people in your hometown who listed analingus as a hobby and in no time you could be chatting with a like minded perv. Sweet. Fun side note, ICQ still exists. Do you use it? Weird!
Your second best bet for filthy talk was Yahoo chat because until the mid 2000s Yahoo simply did not give a shit. They’d have a list of innocuous chat rooms like Cribbage Lovers and The Luau Room and shit. Then there’d be”Adult” with the + beside it. And man, if you clicked the + you’d open up a landslide of depravity. From run of the mill breast fetishes to rooms dedicated to people who are sexually aroused by watching family members baste turkeys, Yahoo chat had everything, no matter how wrong it was. Typical room names would be things like “Piss Across America” and “I want to blow a tranny.” It was a great place to meet people.
Set the Mood
Unlike today with our modern super modems that run on FiOs HiFi WiFi and other shit we don’t know the meaning of and refuse to look up, in 1999 you were a champ if you were rocking a 56k modem. And you were, because you wanted blazing fast GIFs that would load in a minute or less, almost guaranteed. And the GIFs would be awesome, like a dancing banana, or that girl shaking her boobs.
If you were looking to cyber, and in turn maybe get some pictures of what you hoped wasn’t a dude (it can’t be stressed enough how likely it was the person you were talking to was a dude. Recent evidence uncovered by Stephen Hawking shows that, in 1999, there were 6 chicks online and one was a legitimate lesbian. That’s what Stephen Hawking does in his down time. Not like he can jerk off.), you needed to have free resources. Today your computer can probably handle 100 things at once. This article was written in Word while Photoshop, Skype, iTunes were running along with 87 other processes and a Bollywood movie about a Yeti that falls in love wit a schoolteacher and sings to a fat, shirtless man was being burned to a DVD. In 1999 that dancing baby GIF could cut your connection off cold while you were halfway finished downloading what you had to pray wasn’t a big, fat weiner picture.
In order to be adequately prepared, it’d be good to have Paint, or whatever image viewing program you had in 1999 already open. Maybe some of your favorite stored porn up on screen, or a dirty text story you downloaded. Text. Can you believe it? Who the hell reads text? Ha ha ha!
Start it Up
Initiating cyber sex was no easy task. If you were to have cyber sex today, assuming you could find a place to interact with a stranger wherein your personal information wasn’t already linked to it and that person wasn’t immediately disgusted by your advances and/or planning on charging you several dollars per minute, you would probably need to say something hip and trendy like “Hey, remember 1999?” or whatever the hell people say when they talk to others these days. Back in 1999 you had to go into your Yahoo chat room and come up with a zinger to top the other 30 guys who were saying things like “24/m/Texas – horny and hung” or “who wants to see my penis?”
There was a time, maybe in 1996, when a trailblazer showed up on the scene, and his approach was to be the gentle soul who would defend the women-folk from the brazen sexual advances of all the man-apes. He was just there to appreciate their inner beauty, and maybe their boobs, which were surely goddess-like and perfect in every way, if only they would share them in a private message. It was a stunning shart-load, but it may have worked once. By 1999, it was just as f*cktarded as it is now. It was not the approach you should have used.
Your best bet to find a real woman, and not a dude who swears he’s an 18 year old nympho, was to set your sights a little lower. Why try to get the 18 year old nympho who’s more elusive than sober Irishman, when you can look for a 42 year old housewife who’s been playing Hearts all evening and is just taking a little breather while she drinks her herbal tea? She may be in a flannel nightgown, but somewhere under it beats the passionate heart of a lady who doesn’t bother to shave a single hair on her body.
The sad truth is that today, you can get that 42 year old housewife because all those other dudes are courting her as well and calling her sweet things like Vagina Warrior or Sugar Poon or whatever these guys think is complimentary, and it has empowered the lonely housewife to the point where she is far more discerning than her 1999 counterpart. Good thing you drove that van back in time. Watch out Stephen King, we’re gonna get you one day!
Now that you have your lady friend’s attention (please, take a moment to toss out subtle questions about sporting goods, barbecue food and whatever’s popular on TV right now for dudes – Ed Sullivan or whatever, you need to be sure this isn’t a man), it’s time to full on cyber sex. For your convenience, we forced our interns to carry out such an interaction. Here’s a transcript, with names unchanged;
WideLoad69: So what are you wearing? Lol
Tasty Crumpet: Jeans, I guess
WideLoad69: It’s supposed to be sexy, dickhead
TastyCrumpet: F*ck you, man, I don’t even work for Holy Taco, I’m supposed to be doing an article for Cagepotato.
WideLoad69: Your mom’s a cage potato
TastyCrumpet: Your mom’s not. She’s a woman and I impregnated her last weekend.
WideLoad69: My mom had a hysterectomy
TastyCrumpet: I did her so hard it reversed
WideLoad69: That’s the most retarded thing I have ever heard
TastyCrumpet: That’s what your dad said before I impregnated him too
WideLoad69: That was even more retarded
TastyCrumpet: That’s what your grandmother said before we let her out of her cage.
WideLoad69: Dude, I don’t get paid for this shit
TastyCrumpet: She never said that. She took $10 and gave me change.
END OF CHAT