Double take

He was in love with himself -- both of them. Dr. Jekyll was hot; I had to dump deceitful Mr. Hyde.

Jan 13, 2003 | Hell: My dark Angel

His name was Angel. He wasn't.

This is a story about the kind of date we're all afraid of, ladies -- the one who picks up your Internet profile, then edits his to match exactly what youre looking for.

It all seemed to start innocently enough. He e-mailed his profile through the Sea of Love site. It was uncanny; he looked like the perfect match for me -- single, never married, no children, professional, loved dogs, liked to travel, was just as comfortable knocking around in a pair of jeans as he was at work, viewed life as an adventure and a gift! He was balanced (even a Libra!), and first and foremost, liked who he was. His picture: totally hot -- Puerto Rican, tall, dark, handsome and an awesome dresser.

He liked long hair -- red -- wanted to meet someone professional, with a good sense of humor, who liked animals and liked to travel, interested in history and art. Right on target.

Angels real profile: Divorced guy from Brooklyn married for eight years, has two teenage sons and an ex-wife he supports in Jersey. Downsized from his job twice, claimed to have lost nearly half a mil in the stock market, said his dog was kidnapped and offered me the leftover treats for mine (they belonged to the nonkidnapped dog of girlfriend No. 2), looks at life as a stage and he's the player and the gift, and is extremely pleased with himself -- and his double life.

But I didn't know that then. We exchanged e-mails. We met. I fell. He was a perfect gentleman. He was smart. He was funny. He had an ass you could bounce a quarter off. We went out, we rented movies, we made out on the couch. He made me coffee the next morning. How could this be real? How indeed?

We had sex -- hot, mind-altering, parallel-universe, can't-walk, can't-remember-my-name sex. And that was the first two weeks. Not bad for my first foray into Internet dating. I was satisfied; I canceled my online membership. He canceled his. (Or did he?)

Unbeknownst to me, I had just entered the eighth circle of hell. It started with the panicky and adrenaline-mixed feeling you experience as you sign on the dotted line at the car dealership. You're thinking, Great looking with a real power package, but am I getting screwed? Here's a tip. If you get that feeling, if at some point during a date it crosses your mind that he might have three secret families, run. Never look back.

Things began to not add up. He was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Dr. Jekyll was the guy I first met. Then there was this other cranky guy -- the one with no photographs in his house who contradicted himself all the time and never introduced me to his friends, who "accidentally" threw out things that I left at his place, who never answered the phone when I was there.

One crazy story too many had me on the phone to his house when I knew he was out of town. Of course a woman answered. She was as curious about Angel's double life as I was.

I'm going back to blond. I hear they have more fun.

-- (Name withdrawn), Atlanta

Heaven: All that soccer mom shit

Online life was a distraction from real life in 1998, a life that was none too pretty for either of us at the time. We were both going through the end of messy marriages. His left him raising his 5- and 7-year-old children by himself. I was 500 miles away, trying to decide what to do with the remains of a wreckage of a career, and a marriage I knew was over, though I hadn't yet told my husband. I was game for a serious distraction.

We were introduced by a mutual online friend and enjoyed each other's wit, twisted sense of humor, and favorite music, movies and books.

"I could really love you, if only you were real," he said, not really kidding.

We spent a fortune on long-distance calls, falling deeper into infatuation. Instead of online life being the escape, it began to eclipse real life.

My husband found out about my decision to leave, and I decided it was as good a time as any to visit my mystery love. Scared, yet driven by conviction and the clarity of thought that a truly insane person has, I drove from Omaha to Milwaukee and met him at his door. We took a long moment to recognize each other, then fell into a long embrace. It took us all of about 15 minutes of small talk to make love that night. It was frighteningly better than either of us had dreamed it would be.

Then reality intervened again. His divorce wasn't yet finalized, and turned out to be uglier than he had let on. I turned out to be much more of an alcoholic than I had let on. It took a long time for us to recover from both.

But life moved on. We have a house in the suburbs. He goes to work in the morning and I walk the kids to school, bake bread and all that soccer mom shit. We eat dinner, I go to A.A. and he does homework with the kids. We fall asleep in each other's arms each night, four years from the start of the journey, utterly amazed.

-- Liesl Thornton, Milwaukee

Next Page: There's always someone younger, sleeker, bouncier

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