The whites of their miserable eggs (fetch the muumuu)
Let me introduce a past relationship of mine. It was this. Its probably why I am slightly edgy and nervous all the time.

When I was 16, I first used the internet. Naturally I never used it for the purpose I had sold to my parents, i.e. ‘homework’ and ‘research’. I used chatrooms. More specifically, AOL chatrooms.

It was absolutely amazing. I was free to do and say what I wanted (this was before the internet became a haven for viagra ad-serving bots). I chatted merrily away, staying up all night at the weekend, making friends, and having a good time.

Then I met the perfect girl for me. American Nancy. My sweet Nancy. From Columbus, Ohio. Cheerleader (so same age as me-ish), and writer. Blonde as apple pie etc etc. We used to write emails to each other all the time and chat until the wee hours. I didn’t even know anyone with a scanner and I am fairly sure that digital cameras weren’t available in the single mega pixel form for under £1000 for a few years yet, so it took me ages to arrange a badly scanned picture of myself to send to her. (by asking my dad to arrange it with the IT department where he worked).

She sent me one back of her year book picture. She wasn’t as bad looking as I expected actually, half believe my teasing friends about what a girl on the internet would look like. She was blonde, but a bit plain looking, and wearing a decidedly old fashioned dress that looked a bit like a re-utilised curtain. Still she was ‘glamorous’ (in my eyes) and really nice to communicate with.

We started to call each other. She sounded a bit husky if I am honest, but I didn’t mind. She spoke with an impossibly nasal accent but hey, she was glamorous and American, right?

Anyway, I saved up some money to go and visit her. She had a car and those impossible freedoms that Americans in my mind had, like a phone in her room and her own credit card from her dad. I had a rusty bike, a service till card (£50 limit!), and a house phone in our kitchen so it was natural that I go to her. If someone called, then my mum would inevitably answer and screech upstairs that someone was on the phone and could I please not be too long *this* time because dinner was almost ready and I should prepare myself to eat *all* the cauliflower cheese, all in full hearing range of the phone receiver. (Some of my various nemeses used to call me up just to listen to my mum squawking so they could have some fresh ammunition at school)

So I flew to Newark from Heathrow my heart full to bursting with hope. Newark was a scary place. From there I flew to Columbus, and then I had to take a short bus to a little place called Dublin, where she actually lived. I stepped off the bus and I suddenly wasn’t tired anymore, I was excited once again! Then! I spotted Nancy’s obese mum! I could see the resemblance, and she was waving at me from the sit down bit in the bus stop. I grabbed my luggage and dashed over, surmising in my mind that Nancy must be in the toilet or something.

Then Nancy’s mum started to hug me closely. She had bloodshot eyes. Attentive readers will of course have realised several paragraphs earlier the outcome.

To be completely fair she was only 26 but unfortunately she had let herself go a bit from her high school days and looked a lot older and sadly wider. Wiiiider. She was wearing a muumuu. (I didn’t know what one of those was of course at the time and I thought it was a big dress, which kind of what it is anyway)

I was a bit shellshocked and frightened and she saw that and she immediately went off on one and said that she was sorry and she really liked me but didn’t want to scare me off, and wasn’t it swell that I had come to visit and she wanted me to visit her parents and she could drive us there it was only 7 hours drive. I couldn’t really get a word in edgeways.

But that’s because I was shit scared.

So I smiled and was nice, and kissed her, and ate her less than nutritionally adequate meals. She seemed to think that frying some hamburger meat in a ‘skillet’, adding some powder from a box, and shit loads of processed cheese slices was the height of haute cuisine.

The two weeks passed in a bit of a blur and I couldn’t tell my parents properly what happened because whenever I rang them, she was always close by listening. I swear to god that I can never get past the first 20 minutes of the movie Misery because it really messes me up.

Anyway I came home. As soon as I got past customs I started crying because I was so happy. Newark Airport seemed like Eden (if you’ve ever been to Newark then you know how I felt).

When I got home I was so happy and relieved. I didn’t tell my parents, and I didn’t use a chatroom for about a week after.

When I told my friends the story, they all were like whoah! You should have called the police but weirdly she was still the person who I bonded with in the chatrooms, even if she lied to me.

Now I have to see the whites of their eggs before they can have a relationship with me.
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 16:19, 3 replies)

Eggs?

( idonthaveafunnynickname Drink-Aware? Sure. I'm aware I want another drink., Thu 4 Dec 2008, 22:13, closed)

yes
eggs.

*reassures*
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Fri 5 Dec 2008, 17:33, closed)

Ooh
Now I'm worried that MY internet girlfriend isn't all she's cracked up to be.
( The Light in Chains don't touch the Pope's boner, Sun 7 Dec 2008, 22:57, closed)