Libs, or as she’s known in the digital flesh market, libbyrae, is the kind of fresh meat that makes you wonder if you should be feeling guilty or just grateful. At 18, she’s got that Florida sunshine glow, which is just a fancy way of saying she’s blonde and probably sunburnt. Her profile screams “new,” like a baby deer taking its first wobbly steps, or maybe a fawn teetering on the edge of a swamp. You can almost smell the mix of sunscreen and nervous sweat through your screen.
The thing about libs is that she’s got this shy vibe going on, which is either an act or she’s genuinely trying to figure out how she ended up in front of a camera with her clothes off. It’s like watching a kitten try to play with a ball of yarn, except the yarn is her dignity and the kitten is, well, you get the picture. There’s something oddly endearing about it, though. You find yourself rooting for her, hoping she’ll find her groove amidst the chaos of virtual dicks and desperate emojis.