Chatroulette is an up and coming website where you cam with people much like Skype, except that you have say in who you talk to. A screen pops up with a person in it and if you want to talk to the person, you do, if not, you pass and move onto someone else.
Sort of like speed-dating, except with speed-dating, you don't get a lot of people masturbating in front of you.
Plus, the goal isn't to find a match, just to talk to people you may not normally talk to given the choice.
You have to love the internet. It allows us to talk to random strangers and feel like we're a part of a new and cool trend rather than like a bunch of creeps in front of a webcam doing something that only crazy homeless people do in the real world.
That being said, I've never met a growing trend I could resist trying, so I fired up my cam, and spun the Chatroulette wheel.
The first person to pop up on my screen was a forty-ish African American woman named Georgia. I decided to talk to her, and lo and behold, and she turned out to be quite nice.
She's a Mom with two kids from Chicago, and her hobbies include reading and going to church.
We had a discussion about gays and religion, during which she divulged to me that she's a lot more liberal than anybody around her would believe, and that she thinks the church should back off the gay marriage issue.
Not bad for a first time out, right?
I'm not sure what I'm going to do with a forty-ish friend in Chicago, but hey, it can't hurt to have one either.
Well, then came Lloyd.
I know his name because he was holding a sign in front of himself that said--
"My Name is Lloyd."
Lloyd didn't really talk so much as he coughed a lot and swore.
"Touch your tits!"
"I don't have tits, Lloyd."
"Touch 'em, you bitch!"
"Lloyd, you're being rude."
"Just show me one of 'em!"
Lloyd's sign also prevented me from seeing him, which was probably a blessing in disguise.
The next random stranger was a sixteen-year-old girl named Phoebe, who was wearing some sort of ceremonial robe.
Apparently, she and her friends go on Chatroulette to find an audience for their two-person comedy show--"Phoebe and Gorgeous."
Gorgeous is Phoebe's friend Natalie, and how she convinced Phoebe to let her be "Gorgeous" is a question I didn't feel brave enough to ask.
They did a few minutes of their routine for me--Mostly it's about the stupid girls at their school and how their Civics teacher is sooo hot.
When I realized that I was probably as old as their Civics teacher, I said my good-byes.
After that, I had to pass on a few people--most of whom weren't really about talking as much as they were about showing me their no-no bits.
I wish Chatroulette had a button where you could send people like that to each other. I could have kept Lloyd busy all night.
Finally, I landed on Joe, a mechanic from North Carolina. He gave me some pointers on how to do my own oil change. We also talked about women, and how he can't seem to find a nice girl that doesn't want to get married by the second date.
I wasn't able to go too far in the sympathy department, but I was glad I could lend an ear.
When I logged off, I understood the appeal of something like this. It's a little bit like going to confession. You throw your deepest fears and secrets out there to total strangers and you never have to worry that your Civics teacher will find out that you do comedy sketches involving him and an inflatable doll.
So did I divulge any secrets, you may ask?
That's between me and Georgia.
Sort of like speed-dating, except with speed-dating, you don't get a lot of people masturbating in front of you.
Plus, the goal isn't to find a match, just to talk to people you may not normally talk to given the choice.
You have to love the internet. It allows us to talk to random strangers and feel like we're a part of a new and cool trend rather than like a bunch of creeps in front of a webcam doing something that only crazy homeless people do in the real world.
That being said, I've never met a growing trend I could resist trying, so I fired up my cam, and spun the Chatroulette wheel.
The first person to pop up on my screen was a forty-ish African American woman named Georgia. I decided to talk to her, and lo and behold, and she turned out to be quite nice.
She's a Mom with two kids from Chicago, and her hobbies include reading and going to church.
We had a discussion about gays and religion, during which she divulged to me that she's a lot more liberal than anybody around her would believe, and that she thinks the church should back off the gay marriage issue.
Not bad for a first time out, right?
I'm not sure what I'm going to do with a forty-ish friend in Chicago, but hey, it can't hurt to have one either.
Well, then came Lloyd.
I know his name because he was holding a sign in front of himself that said--
"My Name is Lloyd."
Lloyd didn't really talk so much as he coughed a lot and swore.
"Touch your tits!"
"I don't have tits, Lloyd."
"Touch 'em, you bitch!"
"Lloyd, you're being rude."
"Just show me one of 'em!"
Lloyd's sign also prevented me from seeing him, which was probably a blessing in disguise.
The next random stranger was a sixteen-year-old girl named Phoebe, who was wearing some sort of ceremonial robe.
Apparently, she and her friends go on Chatroulette to find an audience for their two-person comedy show--"Phoebe and Gorgeous."
Gorgeous is Phoebe's friend Natalie, and how she convinced Phoebe to let her be "Gorgeous" is a question I didn't feel brave enough to ask.
They did a few minutes of their routine for me--Mostly it's about the stupid girls at their school and how their Civics teacher is sooo hot.
When I realized that I was probably as old as their Civics teacher, I said my good-byes.
After that, I had to pass on a few people--most of whom weren't really about talking as much as they were about showing me their no-no bits.
I wish Chatroulette had a button where you could send people like that to each other. I could have kept Lloyd busy all night.
Finally, I landed on Joe, a mechanic from North Carolina. He gave me some pointers on how to do my own oil change. We also talked about women, and how he can't seem to find a nice girl that doesn't want to get married by the second date.
I wasn't able to go too far in the sympathy department, but I was glad I could lend an ear.
When I logged off, I understood the appeal of something like this. It's a little bit like going to confession. You throw your deepest fears and secrets out there to total strangers and you never have to worry that your Civics teacher will find out that you do comedy sketches involving him and an inflatable doll.
So did I divulge any secrets, you may ask?
That's between me and Georgia.
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