By the Light of My Monitor Screen
or
Love Nineties Style: The Great Internet Romance


But those eyes haunted me. I couldn't get them out of my mind.
Two emerald sparkles, piercing me to my very core.
I couldn't stand it any longer. I had to do something.
But what? I asked myself. I was way too shy to just approach her about it. No, I had to find a way to talk to her, which was no easy task.
If only I had some kind of opening.
And then, fate intervened.
Well, let's put it this way--fate helped by way of the UTK VAX system.
I'd been sitting at the computer terminal, discussing the latest episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation when inspiration struck. What if she had e-mail? I wondered.
Alarms went off in my head. My hands were shaking as I exited the rec.arts.startrek.current group and typed the code for the phone directory.
The directory menu flashed up on screen. My palms were wet with nervous tension as I typed QUE for query. The screen flashed and was replaced by a prompt, asking me for more information.
I sat there and drew in a long breath. I carefully typed her name: Sarah Greenleaf.
The screen blanked again. The words There was one match to your request appeared at the bottom of the screen. I gulped as the information came on screen.
And there it was all in green and white. Name, address, major, and more importantly, her e-mail address. I sat there, just staring at the screen for a moment.
This wasn't happening, I thought. I wasn't really doing this. I really should look into getting myself some professional help, I thought. You are way too lonely, I told myself.
But, I found myself jotting down her e-mail address anyway.
I then closed the phonebook and sat back in the chair, exhaling deeply. Did I dare do this? I wondered.
The $ prompt showed up on screen. I typed in the word MAIL. The screen blanked and I sat there, thinking.
I typed in the word SEND. The word "To:" flashed on the screen.
"SGREENL" I typed in. I hit return.
"Subject:" the computer prompted.
Here was a dilemma. What the hell did I put down as the subject I wanted to discuss with her. I sat back for a moment and thought. What was I going to do?
The screen stared back at me. There would be no help here. I sat there, staring.
Finally, I typed the phrase, "An odd message." That was pretty much what it was going to be no matter what I typed.
A blank screen came up. I stared for a few moments. Now what the hell was I going to do, I wondered. What was I going to type?

Sarah,

First of all, I just want you to know that I don't normally do things like this.
You don't know me. I'm that guy who sits three desks over and two up in your British Literature class. You caught my attention on the first day of class and I've been working up the courage to talk to you ever since. However, I can be horribly shy and this kind of things doesn't really come naturally to me.
So, I thought I would try something like this. Nothing too romantic, but just a straightfoward introduction.
My name is Mark Sincliar. I live in North Carrick and am currently a sophomore with an undecided major. I am seriously leaning toward becoming either a business major or an English major. Kind of discrepenacy there, eh? But, those are some interests of mine. I enjoy going to the movies, long conversations, and "Star Trek."
Anyway, that is just a little about me. If you're wondering who I am, I'm the guy with the messy brown hair in your class. In our next class meeting I will wear my Dallas Cowboys T-Shirt so you will be able to recognized me. If you want, please e-mail me back.
I hope this hasn't offended our upset you in some way.
Mark Sinclair. <.font>

I hit the Control Z key and the message was on its wasy.
I sat back in my chair at the VAX terminal.
Then it hit me! What the hell had I done? I had just made an idiot out of myself! And there was nothing I could do about it! How stupid could I bet, I asked myself.
Geez, I was an idiot! This girl is going to think you're nuts.
My whole reputation was ruined.
LIfe sucks, I thought.

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Copyright 1994 by Michael T. Hickerson. All Rights Reserved.

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