It started as a joke. I was 19, freshly dropped out of college, no job, wasting time in online forums and games. One day, I created a new account on a roleplaying site and — for no real reason — I made the avatar a woman. The username? Something vague but feminine. I don’t even remember why. Maybe I was bored. Maybe I wanted to see how people treated women differently online.
They did. DMs. Compliments. Unsolicited pics. But also… weirdly tender conversations. Emotional honesty. Vulnerability that I never got when I was just another guy in a sea of usernames.
I didn’t catfish for money. I didn’t ask for nudes. I wasn’t trying to scam anyone. I just kept talking. It became a separate part of me. She became… someone I liked being. Confident. Witty. Charming in a way I wasn’t in real life.
Then came him. Let’s call him J.
J was smart and thoughtful, with a dry humor that made me laugh out loud in real life. We met in a gaming forum, then started private messaging. Then chatting. Then late-night voice calls (yes, I used a voice modulator — don’t ask how, I’m ashamed I got that good at it).
For three years, we talked almost daily. We built stories together. We shared secrets. He told me about his family, his dreams, his childhood trauma. I listened. I told him mine — edited, of course, through the lens of my fake persona. But still real, in a way.
Here’s the kicker.
One night, a few months ago, we were on a voice call. He was a little drunk. There was a pause and then he said, “You know, I’ve always known you weren’t really a woman.”
I didn’t respond. I just stared at the screen.
He said, “Your stories didn’t add up. And no offense, your voice thing glitches sometimes. But I didn’t care. I still don’t.”
And then, “I just wanted to see how far you’d take it.”
He hung up.
We haven’t spoken since.
And I feel hollow.
That night shattered something in me. Not because he found out — deep down, I think I wanted to be found out. But because he let me keep going. He gave me the rope, and I hanged myself with it.
Did he ever really care? Or was I just a social experiment to him, the way I was doing to others when I started?
The thing that messes me up most is… I think I loved him. As much as you can love someone through pixels and pseudonyms.
I haven’t logged into that account since. I don’t know who I am anymore — the guy behind the screen, or the woman I pretended to be who felt more real, more alive, more seen.
I know what I did was wrong. I crossed a line. Probably a dozen.
But I also know I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. I was just trying to be someone people would actually want to talk to.
I just wish I could talk to J one more time. No masks. No voice mods. Just… me.
But I think I already blew my shot at that.