ASMR boyfriend
I first heard about the ASMR boyfriend on a radio show. The timing was perfect. I was exhausted from working long hours while we were short-staffed. My roommate had just moved out, which meant I was barely making the rent. But the place was nice and I didn’t want to move. I was on the ground floor of one of those old houses on Eleventh just west of Granville.
No down side but for the neighbours I no longer knew. The couple who’d rented the big suite above mine had vanished, replaced by a constant flood of strangers – Air BNB rentals.
I’d left work early to compensate for some of the overtime I’d clocked. Heading home, I pulled into the traffic, then realized my iphone was buried deep in my bag. Instead of my podcast, I tuned in to CBC radio just in time to hear the ASMR acronym explained: autonomous sensory meridian response.
Both the radio hosts were women. They described how a guy had engineered a You Tube video using voice tone and rhythmic body movements to relax the watcher. While one woman laughed at the idea, the other claimed a lot of people were using the “brain massage” video to fall asleep. A brain massage sounded good. But the program changed, and I forgot all about it.
Almost home, I remembered I had nothing to cook. I stopped and picked up some sushi, went home and made green tea, then sat in my comfy chair enjoying my snack. Before long, I was ready for a nap. Yawning as I turfed the empty sushi tray and set my mug in the sink, I recalled the radio show and decided to check out the video. Maybe it would soothe me to sleep.
Though easy to find, it was a major disappointment. By no stretch of the imagination could I see this guy as any sort of boyfriend. In his awkward dark red dress shirt, he looked about twelve. Still, I pressed play. Weirdly, he seemed to meet my gaze as he said in a husky whisper, “You’re beautiful. I’m coming over to tuck you in.” He went on in this vein, promising roses and chocolates, saying I deserved them because I’d done so much for him. First I laughed. But when I felt the hairs rise on the back of my neck, I turned the video off, silenced the phone and went to sleep.
Around 7, I woke up energized. I was also hungry again; the sushi had been the only real food I’d eaten all day. I jumped up, washed my face, and headed for the kitchen to work out how to combine the few ingredients I had into some sort of meal. The lettuce in the fridge was okay, so I settled on a Caesar salad. No packaged croutons, no problem. I cubed my last two slices of bread, brushed them with olive oil, sprinkled on some salt, pepper, crushed garlic and herbs, and popped my makeshift croutons in the oven. Then I washed and dried the lettuce leaves before preparing the dressing. There was just enough parmesan and garlic, and luckily, one lemon. While I cooked, my phone was charging in the bedroom. I left it there, and listened to the rhythms of the wind in the dark trees outside.
I ate at the small table and chair in the kitchen. As I rose to tidy up, I thought I saw something move in the falling dusk. I paused and peered through the window. Nothing. But when I switched off the kitchen light, I was surprised to hear a sharp rattle. Who could be at the door? When I opened it, the motion sensor light came on, but the entrance was deserted. So was the sidewalk that runs along the house. I concluded that the noise must have been made by a dog or cat, or one of the sassy squirrels that live in the firs along the walkway.
Back inside, I sat on the couch. All of a sudden I was feeling jumpy, the relaxing effects of that lovely afternoon nap cancelled out by the strange noises around the door. Determined to enjoy the rest of the evening, I went into the living room, opened my laptop and settled in to watch The Crown. When the episode ended, I was ready to sleep – again. As I brushed my teeth, the bathroom felt suddenly chilly, and I shivered as I hurried into my pajamas. The wind was blowing harder, causing a branch to rattle against the bedroom window. The noise stopped when I opened it a crack for air. Then I crawled under the duvet, shivered myself warm and fell asleep.
A whispery voice from the bedside table woke me. Fumbling for my phone, I saw that Safari was open, playing the ASMR boyfriend video. Annoyed, I shut it off and closed the browser. I was just dozing off again when he whispered, “You’re beautiful.” Irritably, I picked up the phone, put it on silent, and closed all the apps. After re-checking that the alarm was set, I composed myself to sleep once more.
When the voice woke me a third time, I sat up and looked at the phone, puzzled to see the same annoying face. Could I have only dreamed I turned off the video, or turned it back on in my sleep? Drawn in, I watched the film reach a part I hadn’t seen before. He began toying with a red rose, then started tapping on a heart-shaped chocolate box, wagging his head absurdly, and rambling on about being sorry for what happened last time.
At this, I snorted and spoke aloud, as if he was really there. “What last time? There was no last time, and there won’t be a next.” For a moment, his head movements stopped. Again, I felt he was actually making eye contact. This time it really creeped me out.
That was enough. I had to be sure this couldn’t happen again. Opening Settings, I deleted the You Tube app and uninstalled Safari. Then, for good measure, I powered the phone off and unplugged it. Fumbling deep in my bedside drawer, I dug out my ancient alarm clock and set it for 7 am. Then I lay back down and stared defiantly into the dark. It took some time, but eventually my eyes closed once more.
Some time later I woke to the sound of tapping at the window. I lay rigid in the bed. Just the wind and that pesky branch, I told myself, as I got my breathing re-started. Then, to my horror, I saw that the opening in the window was growing wider. I watched, riveted, as a red rose was thrust through, held by a hand with a thin bony wrist encased in a red shirt cuff. Then came the sinister sound of the ASMR boyfriend’s whisper. “Just in appreciation of all you’ve done for me.”
This had to be a dream. I leapt up and ran to the bathroom. Turning on the light, I splashed a load of cold water on my face to shock myself fully awake. When I reached for the towel, my hand stopped in mid-air and my body froze. A second face was looking at mine in the mirror. Gazing into my eyes, the man child spoke. “You thought you could get rid of me that fast?” He raised his index finger in a scolding gesture. “No.” Then he began to repeat a line from the sappy poem he’d recited earlier. “All I want is to be on your doorstep tonight.” I slammed the bathroom door shut and held the towel against my face. My heart was pounding so hard I could hardly breathe. I waited. Silence.
Suddenly determined to face him, I dropped the towel, whirled around and pushed back the bathroom door. Nobody. Cautiously, I moved into the hallway, then crept along to the bedroom. It felt empty and friendly and normal. Relieved, I crawled under the duvet. Noticing that the window was closed, I reached over to latch it in place and recoiled in horror. Three blood-red rose petals lay at the bottom of the bed.