Our romance was one only the 21st century could nourish.

S and I met on Omegle. We first saw each other on grainy laptop cameras. I can’t remember what we were wearing, or what we talked about, or whether or not I found him attractive. But I remember I liked him. He had a lovely sense of humor, and we got along really well. Even though it was Omegle (and trust me when I tell you this place is crawling with sex creeps), we did nothing of a sexual nature. He is fourteen years older than I, and we had to be cautious with our flirting. We were both so polite and reserved, not wanting to offend the other by suggesting someone so generationally removed could even think of the other in such a way.

We spoke for what seemed like hours, late into the night, and even later for him, because he lives in Britain. I remember, when we finshed chatting, I gave him my skype account. The following night, when he struck up a conversation with me, I was reluctant to answer. Finding out he was thirty was a bit of a shock, and I suppose chatting to older, strange, British men online probably isn’t the best idea in principle. But I decided to chat him. I decided not to block him. I decided to go along with it. And it made all the difference.

Our friendship flourished. We found that, even though we were living in different cultures, we were of different genders and descents,and we were fourteen years apart; we had quite a bit in common. Somehow we made perfectly natural conversation. We made each other laugh. We had similar ways of thinking. I think part of what fueled this weird, technological fling was our mutual curiosities. We would tell each other about our lives, and we were both so interested, at finding that even though we had so many superficial differences, a 16 year old girl in the US could somehow have plenty in common with a 30 year old man in Britain.

We eased into a comfort around each others’ presence, and a spark of flirting came one day. He complimented me, I teased him, we went through all the motions of a two people who find they’re attracted to one another. And one day, we finally made it clear. He hinted at some sort of attraction, but said he restrained himself because of my age. I repeated a similar sentiment. Eventually we told one another we didn’t mind if the other didn’t mind, and neither of us did. We masturbated for each other on cam. We were friends, primarily, but there was an exciting sort of sensuality to the idea no one could know of our fling, or little, secret, friends-with-benefits relationship over the internet.

It lasted a little under half a year. I dated someone in between, and during those brief weeks our relationship reverted to platonic. When I broke up with the guy (for unelated reasons), S and I began having camsex again. We spoke nearly every day, via skype video chat, or facebook messages, or even emails here and there. We talked about nearly everything. I learned about his childhood, his teenage years, his family, and he learned all of that for me, as well. We told each other about our days, our weekends, the classes I had and the work he did. He takes pictures all day, to document his life, for his own sake, and he would send me some of those pictures just to include me in it. A misplaced sign, a quirky cafe, the view from his apartment. I made him a playlist, once, because he asked for one, and he showed me British television. We didn’t do anything sexual every time. We didn’t even necessarily flirt every time. He understood I had a life, and I understood he had one as well, and we were both happy with our comfortable yet exciting arrangement.

He started dating a girl—rather, a woman—and I was fine with it. He would know when to draw the boundary if things got serious with her, or I would stop us.

Last week we didn’t chat much at all. I wondered whether something had happened, but I figured if it were something truly awful, I would hear about it one way or another.

Yesterday he logged onto Skype. He apologized for not being on often. I told him it was fine. He said he had had things on his mind that week. I asked if anything in particular, if he’d like to talk about it.

Then he sent me a picture, taken from his phone, of a pregnancy test.

He’s going to be a father.

I don’t know why I’m typing this all out. You’re an anonymous reader, you don’t care, you don’t know him nor I. But I needed to tell someone. I couldn’t tell anyone, for obvious reasons, and you, my unknown reader, are my only source of comfort. Writing it out makes me feel more organized.

I had the strangest reaction, mind you. I wanted to cry, because I knew we were done for, but I was also smiling like a dope, because I know this wonderful man will make a great father. I don’t know whether he really thinks this woman is the one, or whether he’s prepared to have a child just yet. I suppose it really is none of my business. I just want him to be happy, is all, and I feel so foolish for making this such a big deal, when he’s the one who will really be affected.

He says he’s fine to keep chatting. I don’t know when I can tell him we need to stop, but I guess it’ll be soon. I don’t really know what I’m doing. I don’t know why I’m feeling the way I do. It feels big, that’s all. It feels big that I’m ending a relatonship with someone because I’m having camsex with them while another woman carries their child.

I just want him to be happy.

-E