I came to San Francisco looking to meet some new friends. Somewhere along the way I lost my pants.

I realize this blog has taken a sharp if not totally unexpected little turn toward my masturbatory habits, but I’m gonna stick with what works. And yes, I know private time is supposed to be “private” (it’s right there in the name), but since this blog is basically psychological masturbation anyway, I figure the topic is totally apropos. I apologize to those of you who are subsequently and appropriately horrified.

For the past few weeks I have been infrequently involved in a little virtual threesome. A digital ménage a trois. Ah, the magic of the internet and a few conveniently placed web cams. Welcome to the broadband bedroom. Perhaps not as much fun as the real thing, but it’s a whole lot more sanitary and with none of that messy clean-up.

Well, sort of.

What people don’t tell you before you embark upon this particularly kinky path to intimacy is that despite the lack of a physical connection, there remains a social and possibly an emotional connection - and their subsequent consequences.

The woman who has invited me into her virtual bedroom is exploring some deeper, darker corners of her sexuality. She is flexing her seduction muscles. Pulling her stilettos out of her closet and pushing her boundaries in a way she can control. My participation is simply an example of me doing the same. It’s a way for me to be more comfortable in my own skin, a way to assuage some of my own socio-sexual neuroses, and a powerful source of validation for someone with self-esteem issues that go way further than skin deep.

Besides, I’m unashamedly voyeuristic so it’s a helluva turn-on. Yeah baby. I like to watch.

However, before our little electronic encounters began, we were beginning to develop a real friendship – at least through the limited capacity of Yahoo and the two-dimensional images of ourselves we portray on our websites and through our web cams.

Even before I saw this woman naked, I was looking forward to meeting her. The picture she paints of herself is compelling and deep despite its pixilation. And as we continued to chat we discovered we have a lot in common. We both agreed that in all likelihood, we could be good friends – although we should'nt underestimate my uncanny ability to agitate and aggravate even the most patient, forbearing female. Regardless, even the best friendships can become unexpectedly unusual when you get undressed.

Personally, I think I’m capable of dealing with this. I’m still friends with most of the women who have seen me naked – one obvious recent example notwithstanding. I think she feels the same way.

But here’s the catch. We aren’t the only people involved. She has a boyfriend. Someone she loves quite deeply and who loves her in return. Personally, I can’t imagine being in love and still having the urge to get naughty on the net with a stranger, complete or incomplete. But I’m not here to judge. We all have out boundaries and we all have our turn-ons. Some like the bedroom. Others like the balcony (and you know who you are). Some like the carrot. Others like the stick. Some like the feather. Others want the chicken.

Mmmm…chicken.

I kid, I kid. Everyone knows I’m into vegetables.

Sorry, I digress. She has a boyfriend. And while he remains comfortable and perhaps once even enthusiastic about me in cyberspace, my meeting his lover in meatspace changes me from a bunch of pixels to a real person. I’m no longer a fantasy but a reality. And everyone knows the reality of The Mighty Jimbo is a frightening thing. Though probably not for the reasons he is concerned.

But his concerns are justified. In his shoes I would have the same concerns. They have a relationship and he too has his boundaries. Although I have been invited to play in their sandbox, it’s still THEIR sandbox. It may be digital intimacy as Halcyon coined it, but it’s still intimate. Subsequently, my invitation to their fantasy has some consequences. It may in the end keep our friendship two-dimensional. Only time will tell.

I understand this, but it also disappoints me. Like most everything else, real friendships are far more rewarding than virtual friendships. And if I had to choose between digital sex and an analog hug, I’ll think I’ll take the hug every time.