Love's last laugh

A whiskey-soaked night of sex and head lice, and other tales from the shores of online romance.

Nov 18, 2002 | HELL: P.S. (Burn your clothes immediately)

I posted an ad that was both discreet -- not too much identifiable info -- and specific -- left-wing anti-authoritarian who likes silly but practical men.

We corresponded for two weeks, revealing more layers of ourselves. I'd be waiting for his next message and laugh with happiness when it arrived. His enthusiasm and wit intrigued me; he enjoyed my dreams about the French revolution as well as the odd synchronicities between us.

I got his phone number, and we talked until 3 in the morning and then until 4 in the morning the next night, and I still made it to my exam the next day. We were extremely candid with each other about our sex lives and sexualities. We planned to meet each other the next night and dared each other to have sex.

He was late. I was so nervous I felt like vomiting. He was skinnier than I had imagined; I was fatter than he had. We sat in awkward non-silence in his car: Who the hell were these people? Certainly not the witty, comfortable, sexual creatures who had been talking for hours the night before.

We agreed on buying a bottle of whisky and sat in his car by the sea, with him eating "evil corporate chips" and me spilling whisky on myself.

Then it was back to a room at the hotel he had booked, the hotel having been suggested by me. It was outwardly a cute little boutique with an impressive staircase and crystal chandeliers, but the rooms were poky with unimpressive décor, and our room had a stunning view of a car park.

We sat on the bed, drinking more whisky. I read excerpts from "Alice Through the Looking Glass," and we realized that there was nowhere to play CDs.

Eventually I made the move, to just get it over and done with, and the sex was OK. During the night I got up and went to the spare bed. Everything just felt hideously awkward.

We went for breakfast the next morning, and he told me that he found me "loud." I didn't mention that I found him controlling and pedantic.

I should add that he seemed like a basically nice, interesting person whose boundaries were probably incredibly challenged by the situation, and I was mostly drunk on whisky, which is a) not something I do very often and b) a beverage that does bring out the particularly wild elements of my nature.

Anyway, we parted with a profound sense of disappointment and relief on both sides.

Then I had to contact him via e-mail to inform him it was likely that I had given him head lice, which my 6-year-old had passed onto me.

-- Catherine May, Dunedin, New Zealand

HEAVEN: Engineer magnetism

She didn't have a picture in her profile, and somehow I found that intriguing. I e-mailed her; she responded. After a couple of months, we made a date.

She was 20 minutes late. I got cold feet and bailed after 15 minutes. So we missed each other. We agreed to give it one more try. We met in a coffeeshop in Berkeley. I was reading Mao's "Little Red Book" when she walked in. I figured, if she's going to flip out, might as well be now.

We talked for four hours that day (Christmas Eve). The next day we went ice-skating. It was pretty obvious that there was something going on. She's an engineer (civil). I'm an engineer (software). We actually like to play with slide rules. When she talked to me about the tensile strength of steel, I knew she was a keeper.

After two and a half years together, we got married a month ago, and we're just back from our honeymoon in Paris. I could not be happier. She's wonderful, smart, delightful, stunningly beautiful, and she pretends to find me attractive. What more can a guy ask for ?

-- Max Tardiveau, Oakland, Calif.

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