Proponents of a glorious Cyberspace future often exalt the risk-free environment that virtual reality represents. I mean, compared with everyday physical reality, Cyberspace is as safe as a MacDonalds Playland, right?

Get in a real car, and you’re taking your life in your hands; travel the Information Superhighway, and even the worst "crashes" are harmless.

Make love, and you may find (as Joni Mitchell sings on her latest album) that "Sex Kills." Cybersex, however, is thought to be as safe as hugging a teddy bear.

Even a great thinker like Freud could never
figure out what women really wanted...but what
men really want has never been much of a mystery...

But the real risks in Cyberspace are those to our emotional, spiritual, and psychic well-being. Cyberspace can keep us free from physical harm, but on another level, it can be a risky place indeed, particularly for the young, the innocent, the sensitive, the vulnerable, and the naive.

There are a lot of crazies out there, and we expose ourselves to them whenever we log on. We don’t know who they are, or even if they are who they are pretending to be.

To put it another way, there are viruses of the body -- and viruses of the mind.

The Computer Guru, Year 2030:
"Really, Kids! I pretended I was a..."

To test this theory, one night I signed onto an America Online chat room and pretended I was a young, single woman of 19 seeking male companionship. Since AOL's chat rooms do not yet support graphics, it was not possible to paint a target on my back. Almost immediately, a man whose screen name was "Buff Bomber" had made me his mark.

As our "relationship" developed, I began to steer the conversation towards current events, poetry, and humanitarianism, knowing full well this individual was primarily concerned with one particular aspect of the human condition.

He kept asking me what I looked like, and I told him (while trying to sound modest) that most of my friends (girlfriends, of course) considered me quite attractive, in a virginal kind of way.

Taking the bait, "B Squared," as I called him, begged me to send a photo, and we arranged to meet again online the next evening, after I had had time to prepare and send him my photo via E-mail.

"Pretty, in a virginal kind of way"

The next day, I bought a postcard featuring an image of the loveliest woman I could fine. It showed a vivacious young female, unclothed on the beach, apparently ecstatic from the sheer joy of being vivacious, young, female, and unclothed on the beach.

I bought the card, scanned it, and mailed the image to my suitor. I explained that my previous boyfriend had been a Photography Major at The Rhode Island School of Design, thus accounting for the professional quality of the image.

If I had looked like this,
would my suitor have pursued me so doggedly?

The response was staggering. I've heard tales of male dogs leaping through plate glass windows to mate with females in heat, and though I was neither in heat nor even female, this impassioned Cyberspace Romeo would have leapt through my video screen were such a thing possible.

Somewhat desperately, he invited me into a "private chat room" (in Cyberspace you don't need to sign a hotel log) and there he began his rather awkward seduction, telling me about himself (there wasn't much to tell) and demanding details about my life -- particularly my sexual habits and tastes.

I was being seduced -- over a computer modem!

But what did it mean? And where was it leading? How does one "consummate" a relationship in Cyberspace? Did I really want to know?

Unimagined Pleasures Await
Eager Young Men in Cyberspace...

In a way, my seducer made the decision for me. Too impatient to wait for a willing and voluntary response to his entreaties, he tried rape instead. At least, that's what it felt like to me, rape.

The rape occurred when I made the mistake of asking B Squared what he looked like (just one of many mistakes I made -- I'm new at this Cyberspace sex-change stuff). Naturally, he jumped at the opportunity to send me a picture.

The download was incredibly long, as was the bodily organ that comprised the sole content of the picture. I can still feel the shock and disgust as the offensive black and white photo appeared, line by line, on my screen.

I remained calm, acted like I was still interested, and arranged to meet him online the next evening in our private chat room. But of course I never showed up for the rendezvous, and even though B Squared had my e-mail address, he never sent me a message.

Well...let's just say it never happened.

Did my Cyberspace suitor-rapist really want a "relationship" with me, however virtual, or clumsy, or tawdry? Or was the "kick" of sending me a photo of his family jewels the climax (and ultimate goal) of his Cyberspace conquest?

Don't ask me. I'm just a man, not "The Shadow." And only The Shadow knows what evils lurk in the hearts of men.

That is, if he was a man.

Greetings from Vegas...
the Wedding Picture that never was...