Go Google It

Luka didn't even know what the hell she was thinking when she found herself signing on to one of those dating chat websites. Curiosity? Most likely, she sure didn't want to go out with some random guy she met through a computer.

Filling out the fields, throwing in a fake name and phone number, Luka successfully infiltrated the site. The homepage flashed up on the screen, abusing her eyes with colourful ads and floating hearts adorning each and every corner.

Luka was tempted to close the internet browser then and there.

Squinting against the eye-raping images, she clicked on the clearly marked 'Instant Chat' button. Let's give this thing a shot.

You have signed into InstantChatRoom34 as MaguroLover

MaguroLover(9.41pm): Hello?

MaguroLover(9.43pm): …

Was there anyone even here? How lame.

If this was all there was going to be, she was leaving right now- No, wait. Here we go.

Dancing_Samurai sighed into InstantChatRoom34

MaguroLover(9.43pm): …Hi.

Dancing_Samurai(9.44pm): Hello there lovely~

Lovely? This "Dancing Samurai" person didn't even know what she looked like. And Luka was definitely not uploading a photo of herself. And what was with the peculiar squiggly line after the sentence? Was it a tentacle or something? Weird.

Dancing_Samurai(9.44pm): So, MaguroLover, eh? Tuna lover?

MaguroLover(9.44pm): Yeah, I like tuna.

Dancing_Samurai(9.45pm): Interesting preference you have, but anyone with more refined tastebuds would prefer eggplants. It's a very distinguished flavour.

…What. This guy was seriously some whacko. Who would have a refined taste for eggplants, of all things?

Hovering the pointer over the close button on the window, she sat poised to click it, before stopping, and moving the mouse away. It had only been two minutes. You never know, it might get better. Hopefully.

Oh, hey look. This guy had a proper profile page up. Ever inquisitive, Luka opened his userpage in a new window. She frowned at the sight. He had eggplants for a background. Ew. The page loaded a bit more, revealing an apparent real photo of him.

In Luka's opinion… he looked kind of gay. No, scratch that. He looked completely gay.

Purple hair. He had long, purple hair. It was probably nearly as long as her own peachy tresses.

Suddenly remembering she was still in that chat room with him, she swapped back to the appropriate window and typed a quick reply.

MaguroLover(9.47pm): I still like tuna.

Dancing_Samurai(9.47pm): Ah, feisty~ Just how I like my women!

There's that tentacle-line-thing again.

MaguroLover(9.48pm): …Right.

Dancing_Samurai(9.48pm): Want to take this chat elsewhere? What's your email?

No, she did not want to take this chat elsewhere. It was bad enough here. Not particularly wanting to reply to the question, she gave the most evasive answer she could think of.

MaguroLover(9.48pm): Go google it.

Dancing_Samurai(9.48pm): Witty as well! You sure are a catch! Are you really single?

MaguroLover(9.48pm): Go google it.

Dancing_Samurai(9.49pm): Being repetitive is no fun~

Dancing_Samurai(9.49pm): So, what's your bra size~?

What. A. Stinking. Pervert. What kind of woman would actually reply truthfully to that anyway? Huffing, she typed out three words.

MaguroLover(9.49pm): Go google it.

Dancing_Samurai(9.49pm): Hey, don't be like that now~ How about the colour of your panties?

MaguroLover(9.50pm): Go happily google it.

Dancing_Samurai(9.50pm): You don't mean that. C'mon lovely, speak the truth~

I'm not lovely, idiot.

MaguroLover(9.50pm): Idiot.

You have signed out of the chat

Well, that was the end of that.

Luka didn't want to try internet matchmaking again.