Another Night
It's a typical British summer day outside, that's to say it's overcast and the sun is hard pressed to find an outlet through the banks of gray and increasingly water-laden clouds. Not a day to be out. Indeed, it's a good day to be in the bar of the local sports club swapping sporting stories with the other regulars over a few drinks.
This early in the evening it's quiet in the bar. One table is occupied, and most people are still finishing their meals or returning from Saturday afternoon shopping exhibitions. Around the one occupied table are five people; two couples and one man. To avoid any unintentional associations with people you might know let's name them A, B, C, D and E.
The two men, A and C, are comparing notes about the previous week's game, commenting on the loss of form of some players and wondering why the manager still plays them in a key position. A's partner B is listening quietly, occasionally taking a sip of her drink. The other woman, D, is engaging in a bit of teasing, perhaps even flirting, with E. C glances over occasionally and smiles, obviously happy to see D enjoying herself. It's clear from the number of unspoken phrases and in-jokes that all know each other well and are comfortable in their mutual company.
A little later F and G come in. F breezes past the table as if they're the first to arrive in the bar. G glances over, gives a wan half-smile of recognition at A and pointedly doesn't look at C or D. C and D exchange puzzled glances wondering why their friends of some months have suddenly changed their behaviour. It's going to be nearly a month before they find out why.
F and G settle down at another table about as far away as you can get from the first table and outside of the direct line of sight. It's clear that none of those already in the bar exist in the minds of the new arrivals, and if they could find some way to remove them completely from their sight or life itself would gladly do so.
H, J, K and L come in next. Four men already in lively discussion about the day's game before they pause their discussion of the masterly play that won the day's game to order drinks. Judging by the speed the drinks are drained at the bar it's a good move on their part to choose a table near the bar, not too far away from A and C's conversation.
It's not long before H, J, K and L pick up on the conversation that'd been going on between A and C. As one, all four men rise and crowd around A and C disagreeing in an increasingly loud manner about the best player in the match. The fact that the original conversation was about last week's game rather than this week's doesn't get a chance to be aired. Clearly the newcomers know everything about everyone and everything. With a world-weary look at each other A and C listen for a while to the conversation, and then drain their glasses and head for the bar to buy a round. H, J, K and L barely seem to notice and continue expounding as they gravitate back towards their drinks.
M walks in next and joins the table where last week's match is still being hotly debated. Soon however, M pointedly yawns and expresses displeasure at the amount of sport being discussed. At first they attempt to ignore the new arrival at their table, however M doesn't want to be ignored and starts interrupting with comments about macrame. Unsurprisingly, no-one seems ready to join a discussion about the merits of macrame, so as M's boredom increases so does the volume, culminating in a tuneless rendition of 'Is this the way to Amarillo', though it has to be said that the tune the words are being screeched to sounds more like 'Waterloo' than 'Amarillo'. Finally frustrated at not having gained the attention of the whole room M goes to the door, bows and noisly breaks wind before leaving. Luckily memories of the singing last longer than the smell.
A and C have moved on from sport, now talking with everyone on their table about the week's entertainment on television. N walks in, looks around the room, leers a little, licks his lips and goes over to stand between A and B, leaning forwards to block their view of each other. Leering at B, he says 'I'm 24, virile and from the best part of the country. Is this guy boring you?'. Showing patience worthy of a saint B motions him away. He then interposes between C and D, and tries another pick up line so lame that crutches couldn't save it. Although C and D take this with good grace, E feels moved to remonstrate. N rounds on E telling him to butt out and displaying a fine command of anglo-saxon language. E doesn't rise to the bait, so instead N go across to the table where F and G are quietly drinking, watching the room.
N is nothing if not persistent, and tries his best pickup line again. This time however he's faced with a tumultuous onslaught that starts by threatening to rip his tongue out and ends up comparing his lineage to that of a prize litter of puppies. By this time, everyone in the room is ignoring N and he sits at the bar nursing a drink, waiting to proposition every woman that approaches the bar.
A little later P, Q and R come in. P is clearly the top dog here, and Q and R follow behind like acolytes or eager puppies. In mid-sentence C, D and E rise and walk across to join them at their table, buying a round drinks for them in the process. A and B exchange puzzled expressions wondering at the latest turn of events.
A and C glance over to where F and G were, only to discover that they'd slipped out. Another shrug. Perhaps they'll say 'goodbye' next time. Or even 'hello'.
The evening's final excitement comes when S arrives, sporting an outfit that can only be described as sartorially challenged. Walking directly to A and B he fixes his gaze on B and says 'You can call me The Only One'. B's response calls him a few other things, most of which are far from unique. Not put off from that he replies 'The Only One forgives those who do not yet know his bountiful charms,' before whispering 'how old are you, and where are you from?'. B's look of surprise at his inability to comprehend her clear message of unwelcome is surpassed by one of surprise and then relief as S glances around, sees D and makes a beeline there repeating the same entrance.
A and B exchange looks. It's all in a day's routine at this bar. In fact it's been a quiet night...
By now I'm sure most of you are wondering what this is doing on a BDSM resource site. Some of you are also probably wondering why so much ill behaviour was tolerated and treated as the norm.
Indeed, why do we tolerate this behaviour? Few of us would put up with anything you've just read for long, yet it is the daily fare in certain BDSM chatrooms.
In just a few hours you can see people studiously ignoring each other, hitting on anything with a (F) in their name, butting in on conversations, believing that seeing 'Secretary' makes them an expert on BDSM or getting wound up over things so insignificant that in any other forum the common response would be 'Get a life!'
Why is that using an internet chat room makes people forget they are talking to other people? Why, in a community as small as BDSM, are so many people so willing to fracture it?
All of us are people. That means we have feelings, and we do things wrong quite often. It's calculated that in a conversation face-to-face between two people only 7% of the message's meaning is in the words used. 38% is in the tone of voice used and a full 55% is in the body language, ie nothing at all to do with the words or their delivery.
In an environment where people rely on that 7% to communicate is it any surprise that misunderstandings abound and those choosing to portray themselves as someone or something else can do so convincingly.
There is a message and an intent to this piece... if you go in a BDSM chatroom remember that you're getting no more than 7% of the normal information input with each message that you read, and remember too that what you write is subject to the same loss of information. This is true for all forms of communication that are solely written, so remember it can apply to email or instant messaging just as validly.
©2005 Alan - CS
