Posted 6:03 PM by Anonymous

An Online Love Story - [ Written on March 29, 2001, but never uploaded. ]

"You have a soft spot for me and you probably always will."

I still love him. I'm not surprised that I do, but I haven't admitted it to myself for a long time. I can't even remember the last time we said "I love you." I remember the first time, though. It was May 23 of last year, in the middle of the afternoon for me, the middle of the night for him. He was a little drunk that night and we were negotiating how much longer he could stay online. "Sixty minutes if you come to bed with me," he said. I wasn't aware of how much I loved him because online relationships are very dangerous things sometimes when you put so much on the line and I knew, from the first moment I talked to him, that I would give him everything. That afternoon in the middle of last year, ten days after we first met, one of the best people I have ever known told me that he loved me.

Here's the story--one that I have never been able to retell in complete detail.

We met in Cas, the chatroom that had become a virtual home to me during my time off from school. I had seen his nickname floating around, but was never introduced to him and I was safe in a group of friends I became quite comfortable with so I didn't venture out of the circle much. On May 13 I had decided to stop chatting because it was becoming not only a habit, but too dramatic for my taste. I dropped by that night to say good-bye to Carolyn, a friend that had been there for me through some bad situations. There were only a few people in the room that night and Caro introduced me to him. He said my name even before she had told him. I was surprised, to say the least. I would later find out that he had watched me over the two months I had been chatting in Cas.

We talked in private that night, while he got ready for work. He emailed me two stories--one of his relationship with an ex-girlfriend and the other an articulation of thoughts. I still have both emails. He was so still, like water on a windless night. There was such depth to him and I was afraid he'd think me immature because of how bouncy I usually was in the room. He stilled me. All my chaotic thoughts and feelings would instantly calm themselves down when I talked to him and that is still how he affects me. I knew there was something between us, but I was so sure I would be able to keep it from becoming more. He told me a couple of weeks later that he too knew that he would come to love me.

He and I spent hours on ICQ each morning and night. I woke up to him and went to bed with him being the last person I talked to. It was the same for him. I would spend time with him after he woke up and got dressed for work, and again when he came back in the evening. Often I talked to him until he fell asleep. We played virtual games with each other in Cas, exchanged voice files, looked at motorcycles, and talked about everything under the sun. After the first time I mentioned him in my journal and after I had given him the URL to it, his newest nickname was "tellment amour." It meant "so much love." French was a little thing we shared, whether to converse or for me to leave him messages in my entries or to say "I love you."

How do I describe that Virgo I fell in love with? He was mature and his patience and serenity provided me so much strength. He was intelligent and had answers to all my questions. He was sarcastic, a trait that sometimes made me laugh and other times made me want to hit him over the head. He was sexy as hell and when he was turned on or when he wanted me, I would ache for him in a way I had never known I could feel for another person. He was quiet. He was funny. He was kind. He was passionate. He was complicated. He was depressive. He lived in the past, but for a few months he was with me as we tried to make a future possible for us. He was, and still is, one of the most amazing people I have ever met and I don't think I will ever feel differently.

We had three wonderful months. I didn't have a single complaint about the relationship, except the distance, of course. Conversation between us was never dull. Sometimes we were quiet, sometimes we playfully argued, sometimes we teased, sometimes we romanced, sometimes we just talked about regular things. It never got old for me. I could sit in front of the computer for hours, knowing he was on the other side of the screen. He completed me. Or maybe it was my love for him that filled a void I never even knew existed inside me. That was the best part about our relationship--everything was unexpected and nothing was in our control. He didn't want to fall for someone who lived on the other side of the planet. Neither did I. But it happened.

We fought for the first time about people who had begun to pick up on our relationship. It freaked him out that a relationship so fragile and young was under speculation and he simply stopped talking to me. We're both very stubborn people and we distance ourselves from the object of our affection if we've been hurt. I learnt that about him quickly. We worked it out the next day, but it was very slow because we're both not very scared of getting hurt and we were careful to return to the relationship slowly. He had a unique way of getting back in my good graces. He would tease me and cajole me into smiling, and then he would apologize and we would talk. We had rough moments that were made rougher by our respective habits, but we got over each obstacle quickly and safely.

July 31st was when the journal went on hiatus last. Something was very wrong. He was becoming depressed and withdrawn, and it was much more serious than anything I'd witnessed. And it wasn't going away. He did, though. He disappeared and I freaked out to the extreme. I cried all day that day and more with each passing day. I knew something was very wrong. We fought again. He said, "fuck you" when I questioned him as to the status of our relationship. I didn't react. He was trying to make me hate him so he could take the blame for the end of the relationship and just walk away. I was not going to let him do that. We started coming back to each other again. We still exchanged "I love you's." and we talked on a somewhat regular basis, but things had definitely changed. I was in school a lot and he was not online.

A final email in September brought about a talk. "I can't do this anymore. I can't be your everything." And that was the end of us. I felt likea part of me had died. It took me the rest of the year to slowly piece my life back together. We talked off and on when we saw each other. It took a long while before the reasons of our "break up" became clear. I think it was December 1 that made us talk again. I wrote an entry about "hating men" and he took it to mean I hated him. We talked and talked about the end of our relationship and I told him I loved him. I was sorry if it was a damn burden, but if he was going to read my journal he should learn to just deal with how I feel. Or don't read it. Just don't make assumptions about how I feel because he once knew me better than anyone and he was suddenly becoming a stranger.

We met online today. He called me a pervert. :)

We've talked a few times this year, conversations that are light and more fun than anything. Each time is hard because I know we're in the "just friends" stage and yet he evokes the same feelings in me that he did when I first met him. There's no one quite like him and I know that I am still very much in love with him. I have never regretted the way I feel for him. He is a wonderful person who I was lucky enough to meet and love, and to have been loved by him was pure magic. For a while I thought that I would not enter another relationship if it didn't make me feel the way he did, but I don't think there is a person that will celebrate me the way that boy did. And that's okay because I don't want a duplicate of him. He is so beautiful the way he is and I'd rather believe that he is as unique as they come.

I love him so much. As I sit here and think of him, tears fill my eyes because the loss, though not as vivid as it was, is still there. I know I'm missing a part of myself and I know he has it. This entry isn't going to be uploaded because I don't want him to read it and I don't want anyone to realize just how vulnerable I am when it comes to this person.

I fell in love for the first time at nineteen with a boy I had never met.

From a recent conversation:
"Sometimes it's hard "talking" to you because I feel as if I've messed up your life, yet we've never actually met."
"Oh my goodness. You did not mess up my life. You made it so much better. You made *me* so much better."
"Yet I caused you much pain."
"I'm here, aren't I? I'm okay. Heartbreak doesn't kill. You are an amazing person and I still feel so blessed that we had what we did, even with how it ended. How could it have ended differently?"