Tha Playa

Please note: this is a piece of fiction. The characters represented are not real. If they resemble anyone it was not the writers intention and the writer has no responsibility over the real lives of anyone resembled.

He came into the club wearing those hideous baggy pants, thinking he was god's gift to Second Life.

Spinning my tunes I paid no attention to him, other than to say "hi" as all good dj's should. I would have happily gone on not knowing him but a friend decided I should meet her friend. Inwardly I groaned expecting some arrogant prick who'd just like to fuck my pixels.
An instant message window pops up with his so-called greeting. Luckily I could afford the time to roll my eyes and grind my teeth. This was going to be one of those days.

Before messaging him back I read his profile and realise he's the guy who swaggered in thinking he's god's gift! The groan is now audible and I have thoughts of banging my head against the desk to avoid the inevitable conversation. I waste more time playing with my music and doing voice overs in an attempt to avoid him. Apparently, he doesn't get the hint.

He tells me I'm sexy and starts calling me baby. I ignored it and sent a"lol" instead. Don't play that game with me boy. I'm not interested.
He tries a different approach. This time he says my dancing is great. Oh hell, all I can do is say "thank you".

The conversation continues. His arrogance becomes more pronounced as he regales me with stories of having three girls on the go at the same time.
Seriously, is this meant to win me over?
The next sentence describes his desire to have just one woman, he wants it to be me. I sit staring at my computer in utter stupidity. Doesn't this guy get it? He just admitted to being a player and he thinks I'm going to be honoured that he'll play me next?

Politely, I turn him down. I'm not that kind of person.
He stops talking to me. I breathe deeply and start laughing at his arrogance.

From what I saw he went home with another chick in the club. At least he didn't waste time being upset or even remotely pause to think how much of an arsehole he is.

It's months later, real time, now. Another player has come back to haunt me. This time, there is history. This time, I'm not the naive girl.
Confessions are professed and all is apparently forgiven.
He tells me what he's been up to and how many girls. All I can think of was his undying commitment to his mantra "SL is not worth playing without you". Apparently that was just another line. I begin to wonder how many of us he told that line to?

I listen while he talks, he deserves that doesn't he? A chance to talk, to be real. As each line is said the walls continue to build around me, trying to protect the fragile shell within. I apply the mask I wear so often and I tell him all is okay.
Deep down I want to believe that myself, but I know myself better than that. The hurt is still there, so raw, still bleeding.

After the conversation ends, lies and truths become distorted, what is real and what is part of the fantasy?
Walking around a beautiful sim I decide to withdraw myself again. I mentally note that he wouldn't even notice.

He didn't.

So this is just a game. A place to talk with people and to fend off the players. This is my reality, it may not be yours.
I'm broken and battered, shattered and bruised. No, I won't play with you, not like that. I'm fragile and always have been, handle with care.

I walk out of the club. The vision subsides, where am I?
I shake my head, afraid for what I saw and wishing I could hold the girl so badly hurt. She's beyond my grasp.
Maybe she will land softly. Maybe someone will show her kindness, and mean it. I can only hope for her.