Single Wired Female

Love shmuv. I grow ever more cynical over the possibility of finding love on the 'Net (...or in Real Life, but that's my problem).

I know people do fall in love over the 'Net. In fact, I devour such tales with lurid fascination. I especially loved that story in the news recently about the woman who married her online lover -- only to discover (after the fact) that he was really a she. (...makes the cogs in your mind turn a bit, eh?)

Heck. I have tales of my own. There was the time, in my very first, trusting, naive months of being online that I flew across the country to meet a cybercrush. He turned out to be an abusive, angry man. I was shocked. It was so hard to reconcile the man in front of me with the man I had fallen in love with over the wires. Text can be so powerful. My crush, in fact, was a very gifted writer. I had been bewitched by the way he could coax ASCII into a caress I could feel against my shoulder or a heated kiss -- from 3,000 miles away. Unfortunately, frustrated and under-published, he used his wordsmithing talents to dupe women over the 'Net. I wasn't the first, I suppose, and I found out later that I wasn't the last.

I've had positive experiences, too. My last important love was someone I met online. Even after we were living together, we flirted over the 'Net. In our shared office, on different machines, back to back, we sent eachother delicious e-mail filled with sweet nothings, bold proposals, ridiculous in-jokes. Even thinking about this now, two years and a painful breakup later, fills my heart with ticklish butterflies.

I wish other people would learn to reign in their expectations. I wish they would actually READ how I describe myself (shy, awkward, a little round, happy, strong, creative, geek-ish, still prone to acne even though a few wrinkles have sprouted, curious, cynical with a bit of hopeless optimism thrown in for kicks...) and throw away their mental masturbations about long, lean, sultry women.

I admit: I've never been the first thought on a man's mind when he thinks about beautiful women. It's a fact. But I am 100% real -- whether you meet me in ASCII or at the grocery store. (Even Jennifer Aniston farts sometimes. Jeez...)

Why can't people learn to use the 'Net as an extention of their real lives? Why does it always have to be a place for satisfying or promoting fantasy? There's nothing wrong with fantasy, but -- when someone says he wants to get to know the real me -- I wish he'd have his head screwed on tightly.

So I'm just tired of it.

It's a shame, too. The 'Net holds such possibilities for shy people like me. E-mail allows the easily - tongue - tied the time to compose a heartfelt response. The 'Net lets me meet people beneath the surface, where their deeper thoughts dwell. That's the real turn-on.

Oh, well. Too bad. If you want me, I'll be in the produce section...