Man or Mouse [Paperback]

Reynard or Ren125733 is having an early-life crisis. His girlfriend has left him and all he has left is a sad life and even sadder screen name. By day a laughable actor; by night a virtual recluse with hours spent hunting female companionship on the World Wide Web. It is only when the rejection becomes too much that he undergoes the virtual sex change to become NuBiFem, the girl whose interests are "Online fun, offline frolics".

Attention from men and women comes flooding in, all wanting to meet the new girl in the chat room, but RoxiNYC is somehow different from the rest. It's not because she is the make-up artist from work whom he can't stop thinking about but because the pair have a special online chemistry that could never work in the flesh. Ren persuades his ex-girlfriend to be NuBiFem's physical presence but the plan backfires when the two become lovers and unfolds a not so much surprising tale but an online Cyrano De Bergerac.

Aside from the difficulty in being romantic on someone else's behalf, Ren discovers the threat of posing as a woman and thus suffers the revenge of the Viagra Snatch Squad, chat room terrorists who've had enough of devious men in their cyberspace. Despite all the romantic notions that love will conquer all, the finale does bring happiness in the most unexpected of ways but gladly doesn't follow the obvious route as it shakes up the classic love story for Internet junkies. --David Trueman --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

Ren is an underachieving actor and overactive dreamer who nurses an overwhelming passion for Roxi, the heaven-sent make-up artist on a cat food commercial from hell and a woman who is out of his league. Thwarted in his attempts to win her over in real life, Ren reinvents himself for her in the chat rooms of the Internet. And so begins a deception and brilliant comic confession of one man - and his mouse!

A hilarious tale of online fun and offline frolics, from AOL's Agony Uncle, backed by a major ad campaign. Meet Ren. Underachieving actor. Overactive dreamer. Waiting in the wings of love. Centre of his stage is Roxi, the heaven-sent make-up artist on a cat food commercial from hell. A woman, he discovers, who's literally out of his league. Thwarted in his attempts to win her over in the real world, Ren resorts to reinventing himself for her in the chat rooms of the Internet. And so begins the deception, desperation and brilliant comic confession of one man and his mouse.

Matt Whyman, a UEA Creative Writing graduate, is an FHM journalist and popular internet and magazine Agony Uncle. He is well known as a frank spokesman on teenage issues and regularly features on TV, radio and the world-wide web. He is the author of several advice books for young people. Man Or Mouse is his first novel.

I first tapped into the joy of cybersex one month after Christine asked me to close down our relationship. Four weeks after the hottest fox I'd ever dated finally stopped twitching in my presence and said, 'I've not been myself for some time.'
There she stood, with her back to my computer and her eyes dipped from mine. I still remember how she glanced at me then. Her lashes lifting like the wings of a resting butterfly. Any other time, I would have regarded her look as a bedroom summons. On this occasion, I feared that particular invite had just been withdrawn. Forever.
'It's alright,' I assured her. 'I can see what you're trying to say.'
A pause unfurled between us. Under pressure or stress, words never did come easy to Christine. As always, it was her body language that spoke volumes. She hugged herself now. Unaware of how tight she had just pulled her jumper. I would miss our conversations.
'Say something,' she said. 'Anything.'
'OK, well, it looks like rain.' Which wasn't strictly true. But under the circumstances it should have been. Christine didn't even try to smile. If anything, she just looked more uncomfortable. I figured I would have to get real. Soberly, I said, `Would it help if I put the words in your mouth?'
'I'm sorry, Ren, I just don't know how to tell you...'
'That you want to finish with me.' She looked at her shoes. I was right. 'So do you want to tell me why?'
'I'm not sure I can.'
'You want me to tell me why?'
'Would you?' She seemed suddenly relieved. I had only said it to jolt a reason from her. What did I know? Evidently, I would have to give it a shot. 'Is it my work?' She shook her head. It wasn't that. 'My lack of work? I know it's been a long time, but I'm between auditions. Honestly, one day soon I'm going to land the role of a lifetime. I know it. Have faith. I'll be someone soon.'
She bit her bottom lip, her eyes searching mine. 'It's not that. Can you try again?'
'Christine, I've no idea. This is a complete surprise and I'm not going to hazard anymore guesses. I've just dumped myself, for crying out loud. Kick me when I'm down if you must, but please don't ask me to put the boot in on your behalf.'
'I'm so sorry.'
'For what? Just say. Put me in the picture.'
'The truth?' She braced herself for a beat, then breathed out again. 'The truth is I just don't know. It doesn't feel right. That's all. I don't feel right. About me. About us.'
'That's it?'
'It's over.'
I turned to the window, drawn by the sound of a motor pulling up on the street below, then sensed her presence right beside me. Christine. My soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend, swan-like and serene. Just as she had appeared to me for the first time eighteen months earlier. Floating up beside me at the theatre bar to ask if I had change for the phone. Back then her taxi home had failed to materialise, and she needed the coins to call up another. I told her I would gladly help. Providing she was happy to help break my only note by joining me for a drink. We shared a common bond, having both been blown out that night. One hour earlier, in the auditorium behind us, the curtain had fallen on Cyrano Sings. A musical adaptation of the Rostand classic. The show had been a sell-out hit, turning the cast into stars overnight. Which was why Christine had found me. The understudy. Staring into a shot glass, my prosthetic nose sprung back up on my forehead. Having watched my colleagues move on to a bigger party, it was she who persuaded me to persevere with my passions. An outlook on life I carried right up to the moment she finished with me. 'I guess some sex is out of the question,' I murmured, thenrealised she was closer than I thought 'You didn't really mean that, did you?'
I thought about this for a second. Recalled how it had worked the first time, when finally we abandoned the theatre bar for a nightcap back at mine.
'That would kind of depend on your answer,' I replied eventually.
Christine tried to hold back a smile, and kissed me lightly on the cheek. Even a farewell fondle would have been fine by me, faced as I was with a famine, but by then she had broken away.
'I've been wanting to say something for weeks,' she said. 'But I was scared you might react badly. Do something desperate.'
I wondered what she meant, at first. Struggled to picture myself hugging her ankle as she attempted to leave my space. Then promptly picked up my thoughts from the floor.
'You thought I might top myself?'
'God, no! I just didn't think you'd handle it so well.' Christine hesitated here, though
I wished she had just stopped completely. 'I was worried you might cry, actually.'
'Oh.' This time I couldn't meet her eyes.
'Thank you,' she said. 'I never thought you'd take it like such a man.' Being a man means taking it on the chin, right? Whatever punches life throws, you can't be seen to hit the ring. You got to stay on your feet. Dancing and weaving. Blocking and jabbing. Being a man about things. Which I did. For at least five minutes after she left me. I was a man when Christine closed the door on my space. I was a man as she appeared downstairs in the square and slipped into the waiting cab. And what a man I was when she turned in the seat and watched me from the rear window. Me responding with a jaunty tip of the head and a brave smile, just like her own.