How your AIM can spice up your sex life

What was the transition from Red Rover and birthday cake to orgies and our parents' liquor? Some may recall an era of Spin the Bottle and Seven Minutes in Heaven; for those like me (who had yet to talk to any boys or discover lesbianism as an engaging party trick), there was the phone sex hotline. We would dial 1-800-382-5872 (ascertainment of the corresponding mnemonic device will be left as an exercise for the reader), giggle at the recording and hang up. We'd dare each other to pick our noses. Then, we would call again.

This was my first encounter with simulated (or any, really) sex, and I now wish it had led to an obsession and much more experience — for the sake of my discussion, of course. Alas, such is not the case. Well, there was occasional late-night "chatting" to spice up my work on a high school history project. And the time when I learned the friend I'd been on the phone with the night before had been masturbating to my voice. Otherwise, though, my life has been decidedly devoid of technosex.

We are at a point in our lives when, every day, countless forces (war, job offers in different cities, Spring Break) threaten to physically separate us from our loved ones and booty calls. How fortunate we are to have technology that affords us the luxury of being very intimate without actually being together. Or making it with some rando on the other end of the phone line. Whatever.

Technosexual intercourse can be had via many other media than just the classic chatroom or landline: POWs in Hanoi probably used their crazy communication system to "tap" each other off through the walls; although rotary telephones may make credit card number entry impossible, there's nothing to stop dirty orated exchanges; I wouldn't doubt that Samuel Morse beat off to sexy messages like "--- .... / -.-- . .- ...., -.. --- / -- . / -. --- .--!!!!!"; and no one can say colonists didn't do it through the Pony Express or the Ancient Egyptians via carrier pigeons. (Note to chicks: you may want to explore these last options if you feel your foreplay sessions are too short.)

At the other end, we children of the silicon have even more options. There are the variations of cybersex, doing it with a stranger in a chatroom or doing it with a lover (or friend or relative) over instant messenger; the upside of the former is the sexy anonymity and the freedom to "be" whoever you want to be, while the upside of the latter is you're not a sick, twisted freak who has cybersex with other technopervs. I'm sure that many a trucker has passed more than one lonely night making sweet, sweet love to his road mates over the CB. And (woo hoo!) wireless technology has made classic phone sex mobile — "Can you hear me coming now? Good." There's even text messaging for when your service is bad or when you don't want other people at the table to hear you.

From what I understand, the basic premise is to talk/type/convey/send exactly what you would like to be "doing" to your partner if you were actually together and to receive the same from them while pleasuring yourself accordingly. I'm a little bit skeptical. To mind comes one friend who tells of having spent hours on the phone with a long distance boyfriend, moaning "that's right, uh huh, I'm naked, oh yeah" while doing her math homework in sweats. One can hardly blame her — the idea is just so silly. Broken down, technosex is really not much more than masturbation with verbal stimulation, couples' division. It seems like such a strange thing to me; like, could sex BE any nerdier? But who am I to judge when so many couples (and internet stalkers) swear by it? So I ask my bolder and/or hornier readers to give it a try — pick up the phone, create a new screen name, select "Send Text Message" — and let me know how it turns out.