internet love

Tuesday, August 09, 1998

Love can hit you when you least expect it. When you're walking through a crowded room. While checking out the latest in lingerie at Ross. Stealthily running down the beach on a hot, sunny afternoon...

For me, love struck one particular morning in the mid-nineties as I was browsing the AOL chat rooms. I believe the particular room was "pretty young things". "This is way too easy!" I muttered to myself as I looked down the list of names on the members screen. That's when I saw her name for the first time: hotmodel4U. I knew I had finally found my soul mate, so I quickly messaged her.

"Hi, my name is Patrick," I typed. "I've spent my entire life looking for you... WHERE have you been???"

Seconds seemed like an eternity, as I waited for her response. My fingers were nervously tapping the desk when the familiar AOL chime sang out into the room.

"hI PaTrIcK... im doNNa!"

We sat there for hours chatting, taking only brief restroom breaks. Hours turned into days and as the weeks passed, our relationship quickly progressed. We spent hours talking on the phone about every aspect of our lives. Her last boyfriend, Pierre, was a runway model who had left her for the girl in Chris Isaak's, wicked game video. Helena Christensen's her name, I believe.

"She's a tramp." Donna stated matter-of-factly, as she munched on what I believed to be carrots, or some other kind of new trendy health food that maybe I hadn't even yet even heard of yet.

"I would never do that!" I spoke each word with conviction, "not in a million years, Donna. Never, never, never!!" She breathed a sigh of relief, "that's good, Patrick, because I don't think I could take it again. But I have a different feeling about you. You make me feel safe and wanted. You're not like the other guys." She paused. "I'm just so sick of people only liking me just for my beauty. I wish I could count the number of times rich men have offered to put me up in swank apartments but I don't need any of that crap. I've made my own money, you know? I just want someone who doesn't care about any of that stuff. Someone like you." The sound of what I was sure to be her eating celery shot through the receiver like a barrage of exclamation points.

I sat there, touched beyond words. "Donna, you listen to me right now. I don't care, nor will I ever, about how much prettier you are than the other girls, or how much more money you have OR what fancy trips you're going to take me on. I love who you are on the inside and that's all that matters to me. Are you listening to me??"

"Yes, honey bear," she softly replied. "Listen, I'm starving right now. I'm going to go grab some lunch. Would you mind if I called you later?"

"Not at all, sugar dumplings!"

"Mmmmm, dumplings are my favorite." She cooed.

Months of this had passed. My love for Donna was growing stronger by the day, and I knew if I didn't meet her soon I would simply die. So one day I finally threw it out there.

"Donna!" I begged, "I can't take it anymore I don't know what I'll do if I don't get to hold you soon." There was mostly silence on the other end, except for the sound of her eating again.

"Well, there is this new great restaurant I've been dying to try." She began, "I hear their food is to die for. What do you say?" I quickly went over a list in my head of new restaurants in town. "You pick the place and I'll be there."

"Well," she replied. "Have you heard of the Hungry Heffer?"

"Yes!" I lied. "I'll see you there at 7 pm, sharp!"

When I hung up the phone I was nervous, but there was a lot to do. I had to get a haircut, and go shopping for a new outfit, so I would be sure to knock her off her feet.

Before I knew it, seven pm was nearly at hand. My breathing had quickened, not completely unlike a pregnant woman practicing labored breaths. I climbed out of my car and then wiped the perspiration from my palms onto my pants. I was a nervous but excited... for I was about to meet my true love.

As I approached the entrance, my eyes quickly darted around for any and all model types, but turned up empty handed. In fact, the only person who even resembled a human being was a rather large woman I had passed on my way inside.

I quickly made my way past the all-you-can-eat, buffet line, then into the bar. This whole experience had given me a severe case of cottonmouth. "A shot of Cuervo, please." I said to the bartender, not really sure if my order sounded like a request or a plea for help. As the bartender set my shot glass down, I surveyed the people at the bar. No model types here either.

I glanced down at my watch; it was now five minutes past seven. Where could she be?

Then my cell phone rang.

"Patrick, its Donna. Where are you?"

"I'm at the bar! Where are you?" I looked around the room. Not a soul in this room even resembled anyone who had ever been to a fashion show. There certainly weren't any runway models here. My glance returned to the all-you-can-eat buffet and reality struck its vicious blow: models don't eat at the HUNGRY HEFFER!

Gasp.

"I'm standing over here by the door." She replied.

I quickly looked to the front door, but only saw the obese woman I had passed earlier, who was now talking on her cell phone. I surveyed the room for other doors. Nada.

"Are you standing at the back door or is is there some other kind of secret door?" I asked desperately. My face was burning to the point where sweat beads were forcing their way to the surface from every pore in my body.

"Over here, silly!" She laughed. Again, I looked to the front door where the four hundred pound woman was now waving at me. My eyes quickly passed her over and settled back to the bar. I longingly gazed at my shot of tequila, wishing I could trade places in life with the liquid substance inside of the shot glass. Being a living, breathing organism is for the birds.

I stood there for a moment before Donna's voice brought me back to reality, except this time it wasn't coming through my phone.

"Patrick?" Her sweet, angelic voice hung in the air. The same voice I had spent countless hours of my life plotting my future with.

I downed my shot of tequila and turned around to face her. "Excuse me?"

"Patrick, its me Donna!" Her smile beamed, displaying at least three missing teeth. This was when I spotted a large, thick hair coming from the massive mole on her chin. She moved in for a hug, but I froze. Tears of horror were now running down my face. I wanted to scream for help, but was much too terrified.

She pulled away. "Patrick, what's wrong?" Her large, man-hands wiped away my tears. As I stood there shuddering, I recalled the ending of the silver screen classic, The Wizard of Oz, when Dorothy tapped her magic shoes together and began chanting, "There's no place like home, there's no place like..."

"Nothings wrong, sugar dumplings." I heard my voice croak. "Will you please excuse me for a second?"

She smiled. "Of course, honey bear."

I knew I could never love Donna like she deserved to be loved, so I did what any selfless man would do. I calmly walked to the front door and as soon as I was safely outside, I ran as fast as I possibly could to my car and sped away into the night.

Some would say I should have hung around and given love a chance - but "they" don't know what they're talking about.