Name?... By Barbara

I’m wildly popular among the online dating set. Hey, we all have our crowd, right?

But it is humbling: full of highs and lows like a fast moving tide that sweeps you up then, just as quickly, lets you down: hard to get your footing. Be careful or you might swallow salt water. You eventually stand up, reeling from the hit: you didn’t see that wave coming.

Good and bad behaviors get magnified…mostly the bad. At least they get the lying over with quickly. Wouldn’t want to get led on for too long…

The younger ones call you things like hottie. They want sex, which has its place, and they work fast and furious on*chat* for a free prostitute to service their needs. They say things like, they’d like to visit (they are often out of town), and ask about the firmness of your ass. They want photos, of course: not the kind you are allowed to post on your dating profile. You go offline when they start to jerk off.

Be careful, lonely hearts, or they will seduce you.

But seduction has its place and doesn’t hurt like a  romance– barely started– then lost…
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He asked me how he should wake me so I gave him my number. He lives hours away. I told him to call me at 5:30 AM because I wanted to hear his voice waking me up – too early– but I needed to see how committed he was.

I loved waking up to him. He was shyer on the phone than I had expected with a voice that made him sound vulnerable. He hesitated, halting as he spoke, searching for the next important thing to say. We talked like that for the better part of an hour.

His writing had been quick witted, with direction. His profile drew me in. His conversation was tentative which made him whole. He told me real things that made me want to meet him. He promised me dinner and made my stomach hurt. I wrote back the next day, eager to set a date as he lived two hours away. I wasn’t worried about hearing back. He had written back quickly, before. We had chemistry and the conversation had deepened it. He had told me things but maybe he feels like he told me too much?

Another alcoholic in recovery: 14 months in. It had scared me and I told him. My last relationship was with a man who had to drink. It was long and devastating: a death that no one grieved. He told me I deserved a vacation: “yes.”  I thought he understood. Things had gotten deep. Maybe too deep? It hadn’t felt that way on the phone. It had felt inexplicably real: romantic, even.

But a day later, a second email and I haven’t heard back. Seduction is easier to swallow. I didn’t see this one coming. How can I grieve a loss without so much as a name?