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I promised myself that I wouldn�t get romantically involved while I was
at college. It�s just too complicated, and I wanted to concentrate on
my studies. I�d seen too many friends allow their love-lives to get in
the way of their education. So I had this reputation as a frosty
spinster, rumors even circulated that I was a lesbian, or maybe just an
unusually pious Catholic, but I didn�t let it get to me.
But a woman has needs, and I tried to placate them with the Internet. I
chatted to guys on-line, fantasized a bit, and dealt with my own needs
privately. Then I met David in a chat room and all my plans went awry.
It started out the usual way, with us finding we agreed with each other
on some issues, all quite scholarly. Then we swapped a few e-mails,
chatted privately on Messenger, you know the deal, we all do it! It was
a nice friendship, but I spent more and more time talking to him. We
got to know each other really well, because of the wide variety of
things we talked about. He was really quite fascinating, very smart,
very funny.
So I had this crazy idea to send him a photo of myself. I was really
rather proud of it. It was taken by my roommate Helena, and was very
flattering. Made me look a bit like Brittany Spears even. Well, a
little. So I e-mailed this to David, half-expecting one of him in
return. Lots of nice comments, but no pic, dammit! He ignored two hints
that I wanted one of him, and eventually I found my druthers and asked
him outright. He said OK, but as he didn�t have one ready, it might
take a day or two.
As you can imagine, that had me wondering. Had I gotten myself
interested in someone spotty and buck-toothed, weighing 400lb? It was
an unpleasant thought, because I had started to fantasize about the two
of us. Silly. I put it as far back it my mind as it would go, but it
keep popping back out.
A week passed where he disappeared off the face of the planet. I was
convinced he must be a really ugly guy. Why else would someone put off
sending a photo that long? I mean, how hard is it to get one scanned?
And this silence?
Then when I really wasn�t expecting it, because I�d given up ever even
hearing from him again, suddenly this e-mail arrived from him with an
attachment. Took me quite a while to open it, because I didn�t want to
face the horror........
I was speechless. He was GORGEOUS. Light brown hair with sun streaks,
and a tan, and piercing brilliant green eyes. Great physique. He looked
like a surfer. I just sat there gazing at him. What a photo! It looked
like a publicity shot for a movie star. Then it dawned on me. This
wasn�t really him. He�d sent me this....why? It was cruel.
So, I didn�t know what to do next. Call him a jerk? Not reply? No,
silly old Dana, I asked him really nicely �Is that really you? Because
if it is, well.......woah!�. Then, not wanting to seem shallow, added
�You look as good as your personality.� Yep, that was good, I liked
that. And I sent it.
He thanked me for my opinion, said he�d had it taken in a proper studio, but yes it was really him.
Then he apologized for not having spoken to me all week, but his father
had been ill. I felt rather guilty. Well, I asked all the right
questions about his Dad, everything was smoothed over and our
relationship went back to normal.
Who am I trying to fool? No it didn�t. I had the hugest crush on him
now. Every time I chatted to him I had his photo in front of me. I�d
printed it out, and when it wasn�t as good quality as I�d have liked, I
took the file into a photo store on a disk and had it printed properly.
Then I framed it. It sat beside my bed and satisfied many a lonely
student�s dreams.
Six full months passed. You can�t accuse me of rushing these things. I
sent him more of me, and he was always polite about them, but never
enthused. Maybe he just didn�t want to give the wrong impression. He
enthused enough over my thoughts and opinions. He loved my mind, he
said, and I told him that was mutual. But he never made any suggestion
about getting to know my body.
It wasn�t that he was so very far away. It was just an hour�s drive and
I would have made the trek if need be, but I didn�t want to make the
first move. Didn�t want to, but ultimately had to. I plucked up all the
courage I had, which wasn�t much, and suggested a meet. At his
convenience. Somewhere public so we could both run away if we needed
too. No reply. My thoughts again drifted to the photo being bogus, to
him really looking like Igor, to him really being maybe an old guy with
a wife. And some thoughts scarier than that, I don�t even want to
remember.
After a time you get to a now or never point with these things, and one
day when I�d got him on Messenger I said �David, is there some reason
why you don�t want to meet me? Be honest, whatever it is I can take it?�
There was a long pause, maybe five minutes. It seemed like an hour.
�OK,� he said �I haven�t been entirely honest with you. Look, I have
really come to like you so much I don�t want you to go out of my life,
OK?�
I promised him that was not even an option.
�Well, you say that now, but, well.......that photo I sent you....yes, it was me, but it wasn�t the whole truth�
Now I expected him to say it was 20 years old or something.
�Normally, I wear glasses.�
�Oh big fat deal David,� I said.
�No, wait,� he said �Really strong glasses. They�re minus 20"
That meant absolutely nothing to me, it just sounded like a really
really cold temperature. But clearly this was notable. I understood
that much from his serious tone. Then I tried to imagine how his
beautiful face would look in glasses, but I couldn�t picture it, and
certainly couldn�t visualize what he was trying to tell me. So I said
�Send me a photo!�
�OK,� he said �But I warned you. It�s not that I don�t want to meet you
Dana, I really do. I�m free on Saturday, and I have a car. What I don�t
want is to meet you and get rejected...... I�ll get a new photo for
you.�
Again a wait of several days. I assumed he�d trotted back to the studio
to get the most flattering shot he could, if he was so worried it was
going to put me off. I started looking around at guys in glasses. They
looked OK. Some of them were hot. I looked for blond surfer boy types
in glasses. They looked fine. I don�t think I caught on at all.
I opened this attachment when it came far more eagerly, and I was......shocked.
I closed it again.
I stood up, felt a bit dizzy, and sat down again. I forced myself to
open it again, and look, really look. I told myself he was still the
same person, still the same lovely beach bum hair, and his eyes
sparkled like emeralds behind those thick lenses. And his
smile.........oh what a cruel trick of nature. I started to cry.
Helena walked in, saw the picture and announced �Woah! Cool glasses!�.
Cool? How could you say cool? I hid my tears and told her �That�s my
David�.
You have to understand that at some level, impossible as it may seem -
as we�d never met, I had fallen in love with him. I had pictured myself
with him, showing him off to my friends, going to parties, talking for
hours into the night, running my fingers through his
hair.......
Helena, never one to know what to say, announced �Well, he�s different�. I ignored her.
I didn�t want to make him wait for my reply. I wanted to deal with
this. I took the photo on disk to the same place, and had it printed
properly. I framed it. I sat and looked at it all evening.
Now, I�m not sure what happened next. I�m not sure if Cupid shot me, or
what it was, but I started thinking that maybe I liked what I was
looking at. I don�t want you to think I just got past the glasses. That
I had realized I was being shallow, or anything virtuous like that. I�m
not even saying they grew on me. Really. I�d like to think I was a nice
person who could see inner beauty or some nonsense. But that wasn�t it.
Some guard somewhere dropped. The preconceptions I�d learned over the
years fell away. At first, I thought to myself that his glasses were
�interesting�. Yes, that was the word. More specific than Helena�s
�Cool�. And she said he was different. Well, different is good, isn�t
it? Different is the opposite of plain, boring, same old same old. And
I thought I really liked the way they looked. And then....something
stirred deep inside me, and it was a sensation I knew only too well.
His glasses were turning me on. It was unbearable. I had to go into the
bathroom (carrying his picture!) and deal with it. And that was pretty
much that. Damn, I wanted him.
I found him on Messenger. I didn�t bother with any preliminaries, I just typed in:
�I LOVE your glasses, can�t wait to see you on Saturday.�
Another 5 minute pause and he replied:
�OK!!!!!!�
Part Two |
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