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.pass_color_to_child_links a.u-inline.u-margin-left--xs.u-margin-right--sm.u-padding-left--xs.u-padding-right--xs.u-absolute.u-absolute--center.u-width--100.u-flex-align-self--center.u-flex-justify--between.u-serif-font-main--regular.js-wf-loaded .u-serif-font-main--regular.amp-page .u-serif-font-main--regular.u-border-radius--ellipse.u-hover-bg--black-transparent.web_page .u-hover-bg--black-transparent:hover. Content Header .feed_item_answer_user.js-wf-loaded . I tell him ''2 go 4 it.'' And I don't start getting worried until he wonders exactly how far I live from the Brooklyn Bridge.
'' I can't remember their biggest hit,'' I write, ''maybe I'll ask my older brother.'' Perhaps sensing a fraud, Flock82 moves on.
'' Watch out,'' he writes, in a flashy robin's-egg-blue font, '' I'm coming in. I spend a lot of time cruising E-zine sites for teen-agers and connecting to the ever-multiplying number of hyperlinks a lot of the Web pages offer. But in fact, I manage my first cyber-romance with a guy I meet a series of links away from a surfing site. He has something like a million screen names on a million different sites.
He tells me he is 16, from Honolulu, but wants to get out of there soon to come to the continental U. We chat a few times, about waves and about whether the volcanoes in Hawaii are cool.
Maybe this is the Internet's greatest asset to teendom: access, and the confidence to slip in and out of personalities, the ability to try on identities, the adolescent equivalent of playing dress-up in the attic, standing before the mirror in heels and lipstick long before you own your own.
March 1999 I'm on line as Red720720, a cumbersome screen name that I believe, nonetheless, sounds teen-age blunt and allows me gender flexibility. In fact, I really haven't said much beyond commiserating with the pregnant girl, telling her that when my sister was pregnant she found cocoa butter helpful, that it helped her skin feel ''not as stretchy.'' I'm trying to talk in their language, although I worry that I'm not.