I checked the time on the oven, and figured my pizza was about ready. Moments later I had sliced it carefully into wedges, and laid several pieces on my plate. Some nights, even though I lived alone, I still enjoyed the ritual of setting the kitchen table. I would lay out my “nice” plates, napkins, and silverware, and if I felt especially motivated I’d light a candle, and nibble daintily by its soft light.

Tonight wasn’t one of those nights. This was a disposable paper plate, minimal clean up, kind of night. My undignified pizza scarfing would be illuminated by the glow of a computer screen, not candlelight. So I carried my floppy plate, and already half-empty beer into the living room, and towards my desk.

With a loud sigh I plopped into my desk chair, and opened my laptop. My first order of business was always to check my social media accounts. Not that I didn’t check them on my phone regularly throughout the day, but visiting Facebook and Twitter seemed more like a social obligation than recreation, these days. I wasted a good 30 minutes scrolling through cooking videos, and child and/or pet photos before I grew tired of multi-level marketing posts by my “friends” trying to sell me overpriced candles and nail wraps, and closed my browser.

I thrummed my fingertips on my desk, wondering if I should abandon my computer for the mindless hum of my television screen, or lose another 30 minutes (or 3 hours) on Pinterest. Maybe Mom bringing up Bill made me feel nostalgic, or maybe browsing through countless Facebook memes of the same socio-political arguments my friends continuously re-hashed made me long for an escape, or maybe it was the beer, but I decided to do something I hadn’t done since before Bill left. I logged into our favorite online game.

Probably the beer, I thought, as the load screen appeared before me.

After a few minutes of loading, the title screen appeared and I logged into my account. I scrolled through my long list of characters; the male elf mage I played only once, the female orc shaman I played numerous times, and the female troll rogue I mainly used when I was playing with friends. Finally I landed on one of my favorites: a brutish-looking, male orc warrior named Borug. This was the character I played when Bill wasn’t around.

It’s not that Bill didn’t know about Borug, in fact he used to tease me about him. Bill referred to him as my “orc boyfriend.” I didn’t mind the teasing, orcs were arguably my favorite fantasy race, but I never resisted an opportunity to point out that the two elf druids, and the human rogue he played frequently were all female.

“C’mon, I’m a guy! I don’t want to look at another guy’s ass the whole time I’m playing,” he had explained to me one afternoon, both of us planted in front of our laptops prepared to knock out some daily quests.

“So you have your prerogatives and I’ve got mine,” I replied. “How are mine any different?”

“I guess they’re not,” he shrugged, and smirked at me between his head phones.

“So you can have your dainty little elf girls, and I can have my big, macho green guys, and we can be geeky losers, out of touch with reality, together,” I stated.

Bill snorted. “Fair enough. Pass me the Doritos?”

We had shared a goofy smile as I passed him the bag.

One by one I clicked off all of Borug’s clothes and armor until all that remained was his tiny, CG underwear. Then I groaned loudly in self-loathing, about ready to forget the whole thing and close the game when I received a message in my inbox.

Haven’t seen you on in a while, the message read. I smiled as I looked at the name of the sender: Faelyng. She was an online friend from the days in which I was played regularly.

Hey long time no see, I typed. How have you been?

Good. Working… gaming… avoiding existential dread, she replied.

Lol! I typed. I actually was laughing out loud, Faelyng and I shared a similar dry, dark humor.

And you? She asked.

My fingers hovered over the keys.

Well… I’m lonely, overworked, and under a lot of stress. I’ve basically become a recluse. I spend most of my free time sleeping, and reading fantasy novels because I don’t have the energy for much else. I’m depressed, I hate winter, I hate being cold. I’m losing my mind, and it’s taking every little bit of strength I have left to keep my grip on reality…

I held the backspace key, and instead wrote: I’m doing okay. Work sucks, as always. But it’s tolerable. I get a week vacation.

Hey I understand that about work, Faelyng replied. Congrats on the week off, though. Does that mean I’ll be seeing more of you over the next few days?

Maybe, I said, turning the in game camera around so I could watch Borug’s behind move in the tight pants I’d put back on him. I do miss playing. I miss you more though. :)

Aw, I’ve missed you too, Faelyng replied. I’ll be glad to hang out with you again.

Same, I wrote. We were both silent for a moment as I decided to accept a small game quest from a non-playable character.

Actually, other than Facebook, I don’t think I’ve seen you online since you and Bill split up, she typed.

I groaned and leaned back in my chair; maybe I should have just logged off when I had the chance. But I reminded myself that if I’d done that I wouldn’t be talking to Faelyng tonight, and I always enjoyed chatting with her. It just seemed that Bill was an unavoidable discussion tonight.

I didn’t talk about our break-up. Not anymore, anyway. As Bill and I shared the same friends, discussion of the matter was typically met with shifting glances and uncomfortable body language. I suppose that’s to be expected when I was the one who broke things off.

I guess you’re right, I typed in response. I probably logged on once or twice after that, but I suppose… I paused for a moment wondering if I should type the rest. I didn’t like discussing my personal problems anymore, not since Bill. My quests for sympathy were met with half-hearted, almost dismissive, validation at best; judgement, at worst.

I suppose I haven’t really had the heart to do so, I typed.

Yeah, I can see that, she replied. I’ve seen it happen with a number of gamer couples.

I smiled sadly. Bless Faelyng and her astounding empathy.

She didn’t respond for a few minutes, and I was beginning to wonder if she’d moved on to something else when another message popped up in front me.

How have you been doing since then? She asked.

I paused, not sure how to answer.

I’m alright, I half-lied. In general, I wasn’t alright, but when it came to the subject of Bill I was coping, at least.

Just working a lot, I continued. I take things one day at a time.

That’s good, she replied simply. Hang on. Have to kill something, lol.

I giggled in spite of myself. Only in gaming was the phrase “I have to kill something” a perfectly reasonable statement.

Okay, anyway… she typed again after a few minutes. Do you ever hear from Bill?

I frowned at the computer screen.

No, I replied. According to Joel he absolutely refuses to talk to me.

Meh, good riddance, she said.

It’s bizarre, though. I never even see him anywhere, either. We live in a small town. Seems like I would have run into him at Walmart or something. It’s like he’s become a hermit, I replied.

I reiterate… good riddance, she said. If he wants to be a baby, let him act like one.

Another reason I didn’t talk about the break-up was because no one ever bothered to ask about it. Well, no one except my mom and Faelyng. I’d never met her in person. We’d only ever spoken online, and several years back we’d been bold enough to exchange Facebook info. All I knew of her life, I knew through the internet. Yet I’d always found her so easy to talk to, and when it came to expressing my feelings she rivaled my mother’s empathy. I’d probably told her more about mine and Bill’s relationship, and its ill-fated end, than anyone else. Perhaps because she was an internet friend, and wasn’t directly involved with the people in my daily life, it was easier for her to speak objectively about things. It was, nevertheless, something I truly valued about our friendship.

However this really wasn’t a discussion I wanted to have this evening, with anyone.

Hey I think I’m going to log off, actually, I typed. It was a long day at work and I’m more than ready to hit the sack.

Ah okay. Well it was good to see you on –even if it was only for a bit, Faelyng replied. Will I see you on any this weekend?

I smiled at the typed letters in front of me.

Sure! How about Sunday? I suggested.

It’s a date, she said.

Awesome. Catch you later, I typed.

Later, Faelyng said.