When you are Online, no one can hear you scream

11 03 2010

So look. I’m going to confess something. I’ve met people off the internet. I’m not talking about trawling through the online Yellow Pages and phoning up ‘Steve’ from Custom Plumbing and then acting all “oh, you’re the guy off the internet” when he turns up at my house to fix a leaky pipe here. I’m talking about meeting people. You know, for a relationship. Sheesh, this is awkward. Online dating? Otherwise known as the “Lucky Dip”. Now I know, in 2010, that this isn’t an Earth shattering revelation but back in 2002 it was ground breaking. In a way I was a pioneer. A very desperate pioneer. Not as desperate as some it turns out. And that, dear friends, is what this blog is about. Desperation. Clingy, stalky desperation.

Her name was Helen and she was a nurse. She also looked, according to the grainy picture she sent me, surprisingly normal. She messaged me out of the blue from a dating website I had joined which I found a bit odd. I have never been messaged by a woman on one of these sites before. Men? Yes. Creepy men who wanted to know how sweaty I got after a run and if I’d mind telling them where I lived? Oh yes. There are plenty of weirdos on the internet. Following on from her message, things moved quickly. Below is what happened during the week we met:

Wednesday Night:  I get a message from Helen saying I looked cute. Immediately think one of my mates is trying to pull my leg here but I play along. I’ve never been called cute. Interesting? Yes. Leery? Often. But never cute. Helen seems normal if a little giggly. She must be nervous. We email back and forth and then chat on MSN. It all seems to be going quite nicely.

Thursday Morning: I wake up to find about 3 emails from Helen in my inbox. Okay, that’s a little weird but she did say she was getting ‘stuck into the vino’. We’ve all done that. I jot down a few terms that jumped out at me from one of her emails so I can have a think about them later. They are ‘iridescent’, ‘longing’, ‘relationship’ and ‘possessive’. I will look at these words at lunch if I get the chance.

Thursday Lunch: I forget to think about the words from her email due to a rather terrific sandwich. It had three kinds of meat on it and types of lettuce I thought were weeds. I get a text message and an email from Helen. No issues here except I can’t remember giving her my phone number. Alarm bells are dormant at this stage.

Thursday Night: We talk on the phone. I say talk but that was mainly Helen. I nodded a lot and laughed in the right places. She seems nice. We’ve decided to meet each other in real life tomorrow night. This will be awkward. I can’t decide which t-shirt to wear. I decide on the black one. I have a tendency to spray food around like a performing seal when I eat so black will work out well. I sure hope she’s wearing black.

Friday Lunch: Sandwich not as good as I remember but it tasted okay as I read the 4 emails from Helen telling me how much she is looking forward to meeting me. She says she’ll pick me up at 7pm at my house. How nice of her.

Friday Night: It is 6pm and I hear a car pull up outside. I peer out the window and see that it is Helen. She’s an hour early. There’s a small insistent voice in my head that keeps telling me this is a little weird. I ignore it as Helen is wearing a short dress. I invite her in and excuse myself so I can shower. While soaping up I come to the realisation that I didn’t actually tell Helen where I lived. The small insistent voice in my head starts sniggering and telling me “I told you so”. I walk out of the shower and see Helen at my computer. “Just having a look” she tells me. Right. Knock yourself out.

We go to dinner at a nice little cafe. The food is rather good and I am getting a little drunk. Helen asks if I want to go back to her place. My brain says no but my genitals say yes. Things are done. I won’t go into detail other than to say I was happy with my performance. I note that Helen has quite a lot of teddy bears in her unit. Helen says “Oh I just lurve teddy bears”. Ooookay.

I catch a cab home as I don’t want to outstay my welcome. Helen says it isn’t a problem but I don’t want to give too much to this girl. You know, keep them wanting more.

Saturday Morning: I wake up to my phone beeping. I have a text message from Helen. She says “thanks for the wonderful night” and she hopes I’m not too hungover. I stumble out of bed and have a shower. My shower is interrupted by a phone call. It’s Helen. She wants to know if I want to go to a BBQ later that day. I said “sure, that sounds wonderful”. As I hang up the phone I start to wonder why I said that. Helen is coming at 1pm. It is 10am now so she’ll be here any minute.

Saturday Afternoon: We are at the BBQ. The food is nice and there is plenty of beer. It is also Helen’s family reunion. Awesome. I am being introduced as her “NEW BOYFRIEND”. I grin like the Cheshire Cat and at one stage it feels my face will split in half. Her mother corners me and asks me when I think we’ll be having kids. I don’t know what to say to this so I nod and smile and say something about it being a little early on for that sort of talk. Her mum says she’ll chat to me later. Just awesome. I need to get out of here so I complain of a migraine and ask Helen to drive me home. She’s a little annoyed at this because we haven’t played Pictionary yet and she was certain I would be a good match for her Uncle Gary (never been beaten apparently) but she takes me home. I say goodbye which takes a good ten minutes as I try and persuade her from ‘tending’ to my headache. I’m looking forward to a good night’s sleep.

Saturday Night: I’ve had eight messages from Helen so far. Eight. Three phone calls too.  Only one email though.

Sunday Morning: I wake up to a text message from Helen asking me “what are WE doing today”. I reply “I’m helping a friend move and then he’s taking me to a movie.” I get silence for a good hour or so and then a message telling me to “get fucked” and to “jump off a fucking bridge”. I immediately get another message from her apologising for her actions and that she hopes I have a good time with my mates.

Sunday Night: I tell my mates what has happened over a beer or two. They stare in stunned silence at me. I tell them “she’s a nice girl though”. One of them makes stabbing motions and laughs at me. Oh my friends are funny jokesters. We enjoy the movie. It had zombies in it and zombies are pretty much fucking ace. I turn my phone back on and I see I have missed seven phone calls from Helen. Does she not know about the policy of turning phones off in movies? I wonder what she wanted but then realise the fourteen new  messages from her on my phone will probably give me an insight. They range from “I hope you’re having a great time, babe” to “you fucking arsehole. You’re with another girl, aren’t you?” I decide that Helen and I are done.

I get home and tuck myself into bed. At 2am I get a message. I wearily roll over and grab my phone. The message reads “Andrew. We need to talk. I know you are in there. I am watching you sleep”. Oh fuck. My first thought was “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck” and my next was “I need some sort of weapon”. I look out through the window and there she is, standing in my garden bed like some sort of loon. She beckons to me. I shake my head and say out the window “No Helen. We’ll talk about this in the morning”. She howls like a banshee when she hears this. I shut the window, make sure the front door is locked and turn off my phone. I try and get back to sleep but I hear some banging on the front door and some weird scrabbling that I hope to fucking Jesus is a possum trying to get in the back door. I don’t sleep much. At 4am I get up and look out the window. Helen is still there, frantically writing on a pad of paper. She’s been there all night long. I wait for another hour or so until I hear her leave, her car squealing like a kicked cat up the street. I open the door and written all over my front step are the words “Fuckhead” and “Cheating Bastard” in black pen. Also on my front step is about 15 pages of handwritten scrawl. Helen’s thoughts on the whole incident. I try reading them but get a bit scared after she threatens to slice my penis off on page 4. I file these pages away to read at a later date but we all know the true reason. Evidence. If I was to disappear at least someone might find out what really happened.

I don’t know what became of Helen. I got a couple more emails from her but they were barely legible. Basically she’d gotten into her mind, in the 5 days that we got to know each other, that I was the “one”. The man of her dreams. I once thought I saw her mother in a shopping centre and I spent a couple of very nervous minutes looking like a creepy dude as I hid behind some clothing racks in a Just Jeans store.  I was wary for a good couple of months after that. I sure hope she’s happy. And in another country. In some sort of institution would be nice.

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7 responses

11 03 2010
Helen

Well, this is awkward…

12 03 2010
Barbara

Helen? HELEN?! WHO THE FUCK IS HELEN!?!

I fucking KNEW you were cheating on me you BASTARD!

Well we’ll see how fucking funny you think it is when i present your actions as a case study next term you SELFISH PRICK!

12 03 2010
The Bunny

Wow, it sure is getting hot in here…

10 12 2010
Mad Suppet

Er, Andy mate, got a question for you.

Any chance you could send me Helen’s contact info, she sounds like a keeper.

By keeper I mean someone that you can lock away in the basement and use for fun, and somehow she will enjoy it.

12 12 2010
Andy

I will track her down for you. Either by looking in my email contacts or following the trail of missing men. You and her would get on great. How are you at Pictionary?

18 12 2013
Anonymous

That sounds pretty crazy man. You should post some proof of the texts of emails.

Also nice go flogging yourself on reddit you knob.

14 01 2014
Andy

Thanks for your feedback. I guess if I had a time machine I could go back to 2002 and tell myself to save the texts on my old Nokia and make sure I get a copy of the emails because I’d get called out on it by some anonymous dickwad in 2013. But alas, I don’t have a time machine. Do you have a time machine? If so, I’d like to borrow it. Thanks again.

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