What’s with those phone chat lines?

I presume I’m not the only one familiar with this scenario: it’s past 11 p.m. and you’re in front of the TV enjoying your Jon Stewart, your Conan, your Craig Ferguson, whatever your taste may be, and suddenly it’s a commercial break and your eyes spontaneously brighten from their late night stupor at the sight of a ridiculously attractive blond girl holding a phone to her ear. She wants to talk to you. The words actually came out of her mouth. She is “dying to be your friend.” Really?

Don’t assume for a second that I can’t see through the visual exploitation of late night chat lines like Quest, Nightline Chat or the mysteriously titled Grapevine Personals. I will, however, admit to always being struck with a twinge of superficial curiosity at the concept, kind of in the same sense that, say, a fish is curious about shiny things. No, I’ve never overwhelmed myself with the desire to meet, date, marry and then cheat on over the phone with someone on a chatline. My curiosity is more of the character variety. I’ve always been interested in exactly what types of people you are going to meet late at night in a blind conversation, and whether they actually are saved from death by my expensive satellite-provided friendship.

The other night I put my free half an hour of chat time to use on those three aforementioned chatlines. Phone numbers are available online or in your Freudian memory, and in a trivial sense, here is what happens when you call one:

Quest

My first venture was with Quest, probably the best known of the companies (if one chooses to admit that they know it). Quest is a fully North American chat line, but you must find the specific local number if you’re looking to get connected to people in your vicinity. It describes itself as “a smart, economic alternative to expensive bars, clubs and taxis.” I don’t know if I agree with “economic.” Once you’ve used your initial free call, you’re looking at $5 for 10 minutes; not exactly enough time to extract a meaningfully shallow relationship. However, since “smart” is often affiliated with asserting yourself as incomprehensible, I guess I’ll have to give them that one. The entire upfront process is thoroughly complicated.

When I first called, I will admit to a touch of apprehension, as this was truly uncharted territory for me. But it was all quickly replaced with confusion and frustration when I had to go through all kinds of cryptic set-up just to get connected. After listening to some bass-heavy reggae and a male voice spout out a bunch of “hot” jargon, eventually I was able to create a mailbox number and a pass-code and was then asked on the spot to voice a personalized message for myself. In my off-guard frenzy I said, “Hi, just a guy looking for a good time tonight. Let me know what you think.” That was lame, Matt.

Next I was sent personal messages for three girls who were on “live chat” in my area. First was Chrissy, a girl from Winnipeg “just sitting around, looking for someone to talk to.” That sounded civilized enough, so I sent her a chat request. After two minutes of waiting I was told I had been declined. You should have recorded a better message, idiot.

Next, there was Ashley, whose message was a bit more polluted. “Hi, I’m Ashley. I’m about 5’9”, brown hair, blue eyes, medium tits and a nice shaved . . . ” You get the idea.
I opted to move on to Tracey, who was a self-professed “cougar, looking for some nice guys.” I was going to send her a request also, but my half an hour was nearing its end by this point, and I was forced to withdraw.

Well, that got me nowhere. Maybe I’d have more luck with . . .

Nightline Chat

Nightline Chat is also for people all over North America, and it is where you can “chat, flirt and hook-up with sexy girls, guys, and couples in your local area.” Within seconds of calling I had deduced that it is simply a Quest clone. The intro music was similar, although this time it contained more heavy “bah bah” hooks that seemed borrowed from the Top Gun love theme. The guy doing the talking had the same alluring enthusiasm, kind of like the porno version of Alf. And wouldn’t you know it, they even maintained the same mailbox information as Quest, which made life somewhat easier.

This time there were 18 girls in my vicinity. There was Megan, who was “hot and horny, looking for a generous man who wanted to be pleased.” There was a 40-year old Spanish woman who didn’t give her name, just gave some information and then breathed very heavily into the phone. But I was most taken with Mandy, who introduced herself pleasantly as “a girl just looking to talk,” then paused for a few seconds and eventually started making purring sounds and capped it all off with a resounding “meow!” I sent her a request and got a message back stating, “You sound pretty bored and you don’t sound very enthusiastic.” In turn, I sent a counter message explaining my trepidation, to which she replied, “That’s OK. So what are you into?”

That’s funny, why do we have to keep sending these messages back and forth? There had been absolutely no mention of chances to connect live with these people. Then it dawned on me: this wasn’t live chatting it all. The “conversation” is actually just a back and forth dialogue of pre-recorded tidbits. What a sham. I was victimized by a ploy to drag everything out as long as possible, thus raising the bill.

With ferocity, I bid Mandy a good-night and hung up.

Grapevine Personals

Well, there is always a catch with these things, and now that I had discovered the secret I was feeling a bit jaded about pressing on. But Grapevine Personals was the only number on my list that tailored solely to Canada. Maybe they would be different. Maybe their candid Canuckery would mean better things. “Since 1998, Grapevine Personals has been bringing you the most innovative and entertaining chat systems around.” At the very least, it sounded more tasteful.

I dialed the number and discovered a more laid-back and-low budget vibe. There was no music and the new guy spoke with more of a Margaret Atwood monotone. I was forced to go through all the preliminary convolutions once again, and as soon I had punched in my pass-code, I was in the chat room and “talking” to Rachel. Not live, mind you, but at least I decided to keep this one going long enough to justify it as a true conversation. I asked her about school, I asked her about jobs, I asked her about family, to which she eventually inquired — and this is no word of a lie — “why do you ask so many questions? What are you, a journalist?”

Busted!

In conclusion, night time chatting is difficult, falsely advertised, and not very much fun, but in these financially troubled times, at least it is “economic.”