Why I chat with young men

Because young women don't deign to chat with me, as it happens.

Now that isn't true, really; I chat with young women as much as I chat with young men and enjoy myself as thoroughly doing so, but that won't make for a dramatic title, will it?

I don't socialise much. I get invited to attend art shows and poetry meets and such cultural stuff, but I generally prefer to stay at home reading a book or solving a crossword. Most of my interaction with people, young or otherwise, is online these days.

Seriously though, the reason we chat online or exchange long arguments in mails is we all like to communicate. But fun as it might be, I've noticed how communication evolves when we talk online.

When you mail somebody, out of curiosity or with a genuine question, and when they reply; when you communicate with a person for any length of time online, what happens is this-- you establish your levels of intelligence, linguistic competence, sense of humour and what you each find offensive.

You start carefully, with some courtesy and reserve. As the exchange lengthens and you get a feel of the person, there develops rapport. You have common ground, and find other things to talk about too.

In short, you build a relationship, however ether-based and ephemeral it might be. Once you have an idea about each other's levels of tolerance, there is much fun to be had, though.

I have a pal who rants at me about global warming, as if I personally caused it. I have a pal who asks me why Ganguly gets a warm welcome when the rest of the team slunk in. I have a pal who demands that I debate a point when I have no argument to offer. I have a friend to dissect Tenali Ramalingana's poetry with.

I have friends to discuss if people ought to get a license to procreate. I have friends to rant about government policies with. I have friends to argue Rafi versus Kishore for the umpteenth time. I have friends to share nostalgia for Madras with. I have friends to trade clues with, friends to clarify doubts, friends who ask me for clarifications; I have pals for all occasions, really.

What happens is, we develop personal equations and private jokes that arise out of our conversations. And as you trade jokes and puns, some become running gags.

A chance mention of Cinderella hour as I take leave, and a buddy ends up addressing me as Matilda, and our conversations now start with either of us saying, shall we dance? I correct a pal's usage because I know he won't be offended, and now he always says hi with a ' ready for my lesson, ma'am'. Where is my word for the day, demands another, as we trade obscure words.

Best of all, I have pals with wit and humour. They know what's fun, what's funny and what isn't. They know banter, badinage even; they amuse and entertain me when we play like this:

: wait. i will come to calcutta and ask you as my bride.
: son/husband? who owns you now?
: you'll ask my husband for my hand? brilliant.
: i am nice no? he will say yes
: owned by husband, ruled by son, alas
: will defeat both of them and then we will elope.
: what is their worst sport?
: tell, and I will challenge.
: son has ELO 1953
: huh, how Calcuttan is that?
: K is an algebraic topologist, that's his sport.
: will challenge in kabbadi
: perfect!
: ok -- tell husband I am coming and asking
: husband telling, please take her off my hands, she is a dreadful nag, but never look a gift horse in the mouth and all that.
: But we will still elope. Thrill wanted no?
: indeed, ha.

It is all dreadfully politically incorrect, of course, but such fun when you both know it. Nowadays we sign off with promises to set a date for the elopement.

Cheers!