I met a woman a month ago. I know a lot of crazy stories begin that way, but this isn’t one of those tales.
And when I say “met”, I mean that in the post 2020 Coronavirus, virtual sense. There was no physical touch, no handshake, not even an elbow bump or a toe tap. In fact, our respective bubbles were and still are more than 100 miles apart.
The person who introduced us does not know us. In fact, I am pretty sure he doesn’t even know my name. That he played a central role in this meeting and caused the resulting chain-reaction effect is then rather extraordinary.
Or is it?
We are currently living in a time where face-to-face is a faux pas; a place where safety now comes from staying behind our screens. On that basis, meeting people in virtual spaces is now an ordinary part of daily life rather than the exclusive playgrounds of the corporate high fliers and I.T experts.
Children everywhere are learning online, interacting with their classmates and teachers on a variety of educational platforms. Groups and families are gaming, watching films, cooking, exercising, and generally just being present using video conferencing packages; socialising together apart.
As a result, our techno-know-how (not to mention our willingness to interact online) has had to be pulled up by its bootstraps in order to keep connected to those we love. But what about people we don’t yet know?
If the digital world is enough to maintain close relationships during the pandemic, is it also enough to forge new relationships, notwithstanding the fact that many do not now trust their fellow man, woman, and child to stick to the lockdown rules and do the right thing?
Now, I know Twitter is infamous for being the touch paper to many linguistic (and escalating real-time) fires rather than a place where love blossoms. Indeed, after repeated anxiety triggering experiences on Facebook, its notoriety disabused me from participating for years; too much talk and not enough thought.
But this is not a story about a wayward post kickstarting a feud between two members of the Twitterati. This is not even technically a story. Rather, it is a developing, shared experience.
You see, I met a woman online and I doubt our paths would have ever crossed (virtually or otherwise) if it hadn’t been for three interconnected things; Coronavirus, anxiety, and board gaming.
I should mention at this point that our introducer was the talented photographer and brilliant board gaming content creator, Ross from MoreGamesPlease. If you aren’t familiar with him, Ross entertains and informs through his site and social media accounts, and I spend many nights chatting with other people on his engaging Twitch streams (failing ceaselessly to win a single marble-run, I might add!). His focus is on the art and artists who make board gaming the beautiful, technicolour, sensory experience we all know and love.
Aware of the pressures currently facing our gaming community and the world at large, Ross generously invited his followers to introduce themselves on his wall; essentially a celebration of ordinary folk revealing what they do and what they love in the hope of sharing and discovering more great content.
I read through a lot of responses that evening and was struck by the sheer honesty and courage of those posting. There was no grandstanding or showboating; just people opening up about their work and their passions in an effort to connect with other human beings. An opportunity to share their enthusiasm for something, anything really.
Partly to show support for Ross’s social movement, and partly to quell the deafening roar of the anxiety dragon telling me I had no place putting myself out there, I replied using the strict Twitter character allowance. Nothing fancy, just a comment about being an anxious but enthusiastic board gamer and day-dream writer.
I won’t lie; despite the diminutive space and gut-reaction thrust of the platform, I wrote, re-wrote, deleted, amended, revised, and re-edited those characters to death. Exhausted and nervous, I posted and then went to bed (aka the pillow palace where I spend hours overthinking horizontally instead of vertically).
Distracted by the myriad tasks and challenges on my ever-increasing to-do list (Alexa is now seriously questioning the balance in our digital assistant/checklist obsessed end user relationship!), I was prevented from diving back into the Twittospherefor a few days.
But then, on New Year’s Day, something rather astonishing happened.
Out of the blue, I received a message on Instagram from a complete stranger. Again, I am quite new to the Grambut I have thus far found it to be the far more photogenic, friendly sibling of acerbic, big sister Facebreak. And, whilst not completely savvy with its mysterious workings, I have had enough unsolicited requests for money from intriguing characters with the promise of untold riches in return, to know that caution is key.
But this particular message was from a woman who claimed that she had seen my reply on Ross’s Twitter wall. A woman who then went on to read a feature I had written on Zatu about board games and anxiety. And, as a result of what she had found out about me, wanted to reach out and get in touch on Instagram.
The sheer effort and platform switching seemed too much bother for a bot or a scammer seeking a quick bit coin injection. I therefore chose to believe that it was a genuine, human gesture.
But the realisation that some of my words had reached beyond my nearest and dearest (who kindly read and unequivocally support my therapeutic scribbles) was, in a word, stupefying.
This person didn’t stop there, however. In her first message to me, she revealed that she also suffered from anxiety and used board gaming to help manage the mental anvil dropping on her head, Wile E. Coyote style. Eyes wide and feeling the flutter of a connection, I was well into “set phasers to stun” territory now.
And if that wasn’t knock-you-to-the-floor surprising, I suggest you sit down or at least strategically hover over a pleasantly soft surface for the next few seconds because she then extended an offer to help me. Someone she doesn’t know. Someone she has never met. Someone who may as well live on another planet, given the socially restricted situation lockdown has created. No-string-attached kindness.
I sat there dazed. But, and this is unusual for me, I was neither sceptical nor wary. Her message felt personal. It felt honest. And it felt wonderful.
Perhaps as a reaction to the strained times we are living in, perhaps simply a shockwave from the unexpected human outreach; either way, however, I was excited to see where this would lead.
And so, in a rare display of throwing caution to the wind, I forced myself to ignore anxiety’s tightening grip and I replied.
I confess to doing a little due-diligence beforehand (once a lawyer, always a lawyer, am I right?). Well, I looked on her Instagram account and saw that she wasn’t beheading bats in her spare time, and so that was good enough for me.
MIne wasn’t a long reply but, as anybody with anxiety knows, if you send a message and it isn’t acknowledged, ooft, are you in for one rough ride! (Ironically, an uber-speedy response also engenders a similarly distressing reaction as the pressure to reply with equally cheetah like speed builds, but we will leave that little paradoxical puppy sleeping for now.). I therefore pushed the send button and sweated.
Thankfully, her reply-in-turn was just the right level of swiftness for my muddled mind to manage, and thus began a new and unexpected friendship.
You may be surprised that I so readily call this experience a friendship but, despite it’s new-car smell, that is exactly what this is for me. It is a state of being friends with somebody; sharing a mutual bond with a person I like. The duration of our connection is irrelevant. It is the strength of the emotional connection that counts.
Ok, so I know the word “friend” is loaded with subjective meaning and one person’s buddy is another’s person’s idea of an overbearing, needy-baby-greedy-baby, emotionally stunted parasite. But I have stumbled into the path of a woman who, whilst not wearing identical shoes, appears to be walking a similar mile to me. And, moreover, I like her.
The similarities between us are actually quite uncanny. We each have a young son and respective birth stories that would make your eyes water. We both have talented, caring, and dedicated partners to whom we are devoted. And we love all things board gaming, using the hobby as an escape from the crippling anxiety shaping our days and ruling over us with iron fists.
And whilst I usually rely on new games as my safe go-to source for novel experiences (my son being the other major wellspring but most of his “look mummy!” moments either involve him pointing to his own anatomy or mine so we are better off ignoring that for now!), I am on a voyage of social discovery.
This woman is a matryoshka doll; revealing hidden talents, skills, humour, and unbelievable strength as we chat and reflect on our own daily goings-on. I don’t think a day has passed since our initial exchange where I haven’t been impressed by what she can do or full of admiration for what she has survived.
And, paradoxically, in the digital world where honesty can be a rare commodity, I have opened up and revealed more about my true self to her than I have to people I have known for years. Maybe it is the virtual effect acting as a safety net; to be able to instantly disappear when things get too much. Maybe it is the objectivity she embodies. I cannot say for certain but I get the feeling it is something deeper than that. I think I have found somebody I connect with. Somebody who understands my journey. Somebody who accepts me for me. I think I have found a friend.
Now, I could be entirely wrong here. She may well be sitting there working out how on earth one message has led to a serious spate of oversharing on my part. But I am hopeful that she too has found a friend in me.
And, whilst our friendship began virtually, exchanging messages about our histories and our hopes, as well as sharing photographs and GIFs (not going to lie, the foundation of all great online relationships!), the parameters of that digital medium have not limited us.
Indeed, over the past few weeks, my friend has surprised me with an incredibly thoughtful game and breath-taking set of handmade board game components for my birthday. Custom designed and personal, just like our friendship.
Perhaps more exciting than the gifts themselves, however, is the knowledge that she was moved to return to a creative skill which she had loved but lay dormant after being inspired by one of our Instagram chats. I could go on about the power of support and encouragement but for now I would prefer to let our friendship develop outside the spotlight.
With anxiety rearing its ugly head, I cannot be sure and would never ask, but I am hopeful that she feels the same; that our interactions on Instagram and in the real-world are a source of comfort and joy. As the victim of an ongoing toxic relationship, I would be the first in line to tell her to sever all ties with me if I felt my presence caused her harm. But, knowing what I do about her already, she has a feisty side that wouldn’t let me get away with that anyway!
At this precise moment, I cannot say what the future has in store for us or whether we will ever get to meet in person. I do know, however, that, whatever happens, right now I am grateful for having a friend in her.
