We met in an AOL chatroom in the “Friends” category, bonding over a shared interest in baseball and the inspiration for his screenname; I’d impressed him by referencing the lyrics to “Don’t Eat the Yellow Snow.” Every day (except Monday and Wednesday, when I had Hebrew school), between pm and pm, I’d grab the Compaq laptop from my parents’ room, zip past my babysitter watching General Hospital, and log onto AOL to see if Frank Zappy was on my buddy list.I don’t remember the specifics, but I remember we talked about classic rock and which colleges he thought Dana should apply to.(For the next few years, I thought “cum” was a synonym for “penis,” in large part due to Frank Zappy’s sloppy syntax.) I don’t remember being sexually aroused by my relationship with Frank Zappy, so much as I was just fascinated by anything vaguely related to sex at the time.And to be honest, I don’t think he knew what he was saying either.He wasn’t particularly imaginative, or even literate.
I only have vague memories about the first time I had sex.(I was 15, and it was the intermission of my camp’s production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream; I was Helena, he was Lysander, and that’s all you need to know.) I do, however, have a very clear memory of the first time I had cybersex. His AIM handle was Frank Zappy, and I believe he claimed to be a married man from Queens.