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A very good friend
of mine asked me to write about cyber romance and long distance friendships,
as in, geographically, she's in RP and he's in the
States. Or like the girl is in Europe and he's in the States or Australia.
Whatever. The common element is that everyone is married, but not
to each other. No one seems to have the guts to change the arrangement.
Why should they? The important element in one's life are all in place--a
fairly successful career, a house that's almost paid, yearly vacations,
the dream car, stock portfolios and a spouse and kids to come home
to in the evenings. Throw the dog in and the white picket fence and
the picture of domestication is perfect. Everyone's lives are structured,
disciplined and productive. Nobody rock the boat please.
Like all complicated
things in this world, the cyber friendship started simple
and harmless. 'Oh, are you on the net too? Here's my e-mail address.
Keep in touch. Arrivederci. Auf Wiedersehen. Bye!. No big deal until
the first message pops up on the screen. 'Hi, it's me. I thought you'd
enjoy the attached joke.' And you did enjoy the attached joke. So
you respond with a funnier joke plus a postscript that says 'It's
snowing in my part of the world, what about yours?'
He answers, 'It is warm and the brown outs have started. By the way,
I found a CD by England Dan and John Ford Coley'. You reply, 'I have
the same CD. I didn't know you like them. Do you have Kenny G. and
Michael Learns to Rock?'
And so it starts,
from an innocent 'hi' to paragraphs and sometimes pages of prose and
almost poetry. We lose some degree of inhibition and are able to articulate
things because of the physical distance.
We think we're
safe because we're in different continents and time zones. How could
e-mail messages transmit feelings? They do no have nerve endings!
We forget the power of the written word. Words substitute for the
face that is not seen or the laughter that is not heard. You don't
see the sparkle in his eyes when he reads something very witty that
you wrote. If you really think about it, it's sad.
When eyes sparkle,
specially his eyes, you're supposed to be close by so you can measure
the degree of pupil dilation.
There are platonic,
cyber friendships because your profession calls for it.
It is the kind where you do not establish profiles of the other person
since
they don't matter. You're not interested whether he's overweight or
looks like a nerd, married or divorced, young or old. You do not set
up parameters nor create paradigms around that individual. A colleague
asked how I would react if my cyber pal looked like Stephen King.
Or it could be worse. He could be a woman and look like Camilla Parker
Bowles. She wanted to know what his zodiac sign is, and whether he
was born on the Year of the Horse. I said I will not ask because I'm
not interested. I want those unknowns to remain unknowns. These are
the X-files of my cyber life.
My girlfriend
knew him before he left for the States for his graduate studies.
She gets daily messages from him and on those days when she doesn't,
her concern button starts acting up. Two days, and her alarm button
activates. Three days and she's in panic. We forget that we're creatures
of habit. We turn our systems on in the morning and we expect to read
messages from that person 7,000 miles away. The days that we have
e-mail are the only days that matter. These are the circled dates
on our desk calendars. The rest of the time is spent waiting.
One day, this
message appeared on your inbox. I'll be in Singapore for a one- week
seminar. Would you like to join me? 'I can't'. You answered. Big cyber
lie. 'Why not? I'll pay half of your fare'. It's not the money'. 'what
is it?' I don't have leave left'. Good girl. You have enough leave
for a back-to-back Safari tour of the Serengeti and the Coral Barrier
Reef.
The guardian angels
rocked and rolled. Triumph of the good over evil! Head over heart.
Logic won against insanity. One-zero for normality over excitement.
Boredom versus adventure. Cowardice over guts. When you heard Celine
Dion's 'All By Myself' and you cried, you realized you have it bad.
Sus! You, the strong, smart, tough career woman, feared by clients
at negotiations, cry? You left work early and went shopping. You bought
the most expensive suit that was available. The sales lady grinned
when you flashed your Visa card. She asked if you want some coffee
or a glass of champagne. You mumbled to yourself, 'I want to be in
Singapore'. You have girlfriends who know about the emotional baggage
you carry around. They let you off-load some of the weight. One of
them writes things like, 'If this was your last day on Earth, what
would you have done?' Or 'Life is too short compared to eternity and
if the Singapore trip is all that matters, then why aren't you on
that plane yet?' You thought of doing something stronger that would
overpower your current state of mind. Take up bungee jumping? in line
skating? Para-gliding? By the end of the week, you have
developed a bad cold. You could not get any work done. You did not
want to talk to anyone. You avoided parties. Your colleagues said
you haven't smiled for days now. You were losing weight. At the rate
you were going, it is no great feat to downsize from Cup B to Cup
A within 72 hours. 'What is bugging you?', your husband asked. 'Nothing,
dear, it's just some virus. In Manila it's called 'labnat'.
The following
week, your sinusis and mind are both clear. You are recharged with
fresh energy and a strong resolve to end your cyber affair. It was
taking control over your life, it was speading like wildfire, consummating
and exhausting you. You think of him the minute you wake up and still
think of him the minute you fall asleep. If you fall asleep. Let's
see if it's 11:00 pm in RP, what time is it in Minnesota? Is he thinking
of me? What is he wearing?
Your girlfriends
welcome your decision. 'She's back', they say. They love to bond together
and fight a common foe: men who make their girlfriends cry. One sent
an excerpt from Melody Beattie's book which read: 'If you love something,
let it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours. If it doesn't, it
never was'. Gosh, how mushy. Ma-drama. You printed it out anyway
and pinned it near the cactus plant. One of the girls suggested listening
to Toto's I'll be Over You' (from the album 'Fahrenheit) over and
over again. You need a new object of desire, you read in a magazine.
When you saw Leonardo di Caprio in 'Titanic', he was the best substitute
under the circumstances. When you heard that he might be that way,
your world collapsed for the second time that week.
One of the girls
wrote that it's a hormonal thing. She's the one whose ideas
are always backed up by a scientific explanation. She said that when
we receive e-mail from our favorite person, the brain produces endorphins
that make us feel ecstatic. These are the happy hormones that make
the hair shine the skin glow and make you feel warm in the middle
of winter. 'With each birthday, the endorphins go haywire and that
causes a withdrawal syndrome similar to like trying to quit smoking.
So when you see ripe women out with younger men, then that is a hormone-endorphin
balancing attempt.
Another girl blamed
it all on the weather. What about it? Well, it's been gray and cold
for days, and when the sun does not shine, it does not do your immune
system any good. Still another said it must be the full moon. My own
analysis blames the 18-year old in us. It is the part that refuses
to get old; it is the side that likes MTV. It is the reason why we
constantly fall for boy groups. Doesn't Steven of Boyzone remind you
of him? It helps us maintain size 36 after all these years. It keeps
us feel and look young, at the same time, restless, dissatisfied,
and bored. It is the obstacle course in the transition process from
puberty to mid-life.
'I am restless',
writes one of the girls. How can you be restless? You have
everything. You eat out when you don't want to cook. You pay for a
Karl
Lagerfeld coat without batting an eye. You have a 'Hausmeister' for
your garden and plumbing needs. Maybe you should get rid of your material
possessions and start all over again. 'Oh no', she replied, 'if I'm
lonely, I'd rather cry in my Benz than in a bus'. There. We'd rather
be bored in our condo untis than in a rented townhouse.
The withdrawal
stage is very critical, it could make or break your conviction. I'll
be okay, as long as I don't hear from him', my girlfriend said. I'll
be fine as long as I don't see him'. Well, you better keep your cursor
away from that 'SEND' icon and get ready to delete, unread, any incoming
messages from him. This isn't going to be easy. It will hurt and leave
a hole in your soul. It's like missing Manila and you couldn't do
anything about it. Some women take up smoking again to dull the pain.
Some write about it ;-). Others overeat, some don't eat at all. Still
others get a new hairstyle, turn to religion, do volunteer work or
become workaholics. A few cannot handle it and walk around, angry
at the world. I know one who puts all the blame on her mother-in-law.
The childless woman believes that the hollowness is the part of her
that was not filled by a baby. Mia Farrow adopts children left and
right. It's her airbag against the black hole.
You'll feel a
nagging pain that does not go away. Some days it is quiet. Most days,
it is all that you feel. It intensifies around birthdays, Christmases,
and other holidays. It can magnify on any ordinary day when you just
want to hear his voice and he's not there. One time you rang his number
at work confident that he would be gone since it was late afternoon,
his time. When he said 'Hello' you nearly dropped the phone. Why do
you do these things? Well, on the other hand, who got you of bed at
3:00 in the morning, Central European Time, because he wanted to talk?
Why do you do these things to each other? This is slow death.
What is my place
in your life? you asked. 'Special. You're very special', he
answered. Special like what, before his family or between his mother
and dog? 'Limang siopao nga, Miss'. 'Special ho, sir?
Are you special in a way, that's absolute or is it conditional? Is
it beyond time and space, substance and matter? Will you meet me in
Milky Way on the way to Mars and not Twix my arms when we get there?'
Yeah, go ahead, use humor. You always get away with it. Get serious.
The Ann Landers
in me advised my girlfriend that no matter what happens, she should
not break families up. 'Oh no.' she replied, that is not my intent.
'I just want a message from him everyday'. That and intellectual stimulation.
Leave the morning badbreath and the nightly snores to his wife. That's
the price she has to pay for carrying his name. My girlfriend wants
him freshly showered, wearing crisp, white Boss shirts and Ferragamo
shoes. My friend will not be the sleepless woman who would confront
him when he comes home late at night, with traces of expensive French
perfume.
When does infidelity
start? Does it begin with the first hello? How would you qualify cheating?
We have to keep in mind that there is no exchange of body fluids here.
She did not go to Singapore, remember? His PC is thousands of miles
away from her PC. And besides, if it feels so good, how can it be
wrong? 'Sino ba? he asked you once. As in, is it me or your
husband? You said it's not fair of him to ask this question. You'd
never put him on the spot. You also said to leave your husband out
of this, the whole issue has nothing to do with him. Aha! You want
the best of both worlds. You want them here and now. You will not
wait for your Nirvana or worry about your karma. You said you just
wanted your tantra, the harmony of your mind, body and spirit. 'Well',
he asked. 'if you think I'm not substance nor matter in your life,
what am I?'
'You're my soul
mate', you replied. I'll probably meet you again as another form of
life'. As in, he might come back as a tree in Leonardo di Caprio's
living room and you might reincarnate as a dog. One of the girls said,
'Do you know what dogs do to trees?'
'You're picking
up a fight', you wrote. 'NO, I'M NOT!' he wrote back.
Yes you are, you're
writing in caps. 'Oh sorry, sweetheart'. You nearly fell
out of your chair when you read the message. Please do not call me
sweetheart, it sounds so good I might get used to it.
Sometimes he could
be a pest. And obsessive. You feel paranoid. Is he out to destroy
my marriage? You think about the film 'Fatal Attraction'.
Would he boil my daughter's rabbit? And then you realize you don't
have a
daughter nor a rabbit. No, he wouldn't do that. 'Ipapahamak ba
kita? Would I get you into trouble?' he once said. No, he's your
buddy. You both said you're friends for life.
You'd like to
hear grandfather stories from him one day when he's 64. He said he'd
wait for you to finally come home, after the lyrics of the song 'Promise
Me'.
How should this
story end? Could the men readers out there please let me know how
you deal with your emotional roller coasters? Do you play basketball
or soccer to get rid of your energy levels? Do you talk about cars
and feel better afterwards? Is that the reason why you go out drinking
with your buddies? Do you know that men who cry live longer? They
also suffer less from hypertension, heart ailments and ulcers. No,
we don't want the softies either. And machos are totally out. We actually
want you married to your wives and fathers to your children. And good
friends to women.
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Shared by Lou
M. Wisker
