Love dot com – Part one

[Update:  have broken this into three parts.]

[I’m writing this in bed, propped up against my back rest with my laptop propped on my knees.   It is not comfy and I’d really like one of those breakfast tray/tables with foldout legs but buggered if I can find one anywhere in Perth … ]

Wishing everybody a delightful, romantic, not commercial-or-materialistic-or-designed-to make-singles-feel-like-killing-themselves Valentines Day.  I have written [ranted] before, and at length, about the vileness that is VD; or as it is known around these parts, “Get Fucked Day” [say it with flowers].  So rather than getting my knickers in a twist, I shall merely calmly say that we [that would be Tuxedo and me, not the royal we] do not celebrate.

I thought I’d bare my soul a bit and tell all about our love dot com, our geeky love across the internet and various telecommunications systems, that resulted in our getting hitched six years, six days and six feet piles of paperwork ago.

 . . . . . . . . . .

Way back in 1999/2000 I spent a lot of my spare time online.  After my trip to Ireland on my own in 1999 I was bitten heavily by the Irish bug, I fecking adored the country and the people and the culture.  When a friend introduced me to the wonders of IRC I gravitated to the Irish lads and lasses .  I met some fabulous, funny, sweet, insanely intelligent, gorgeous people.  At the time the media was frothing at the mouth over “the dangers of the INTARWEBS” and competing for stories about people who’d been scammed, lied to, yadda yadda.  That channel proved once and for all that it depends who you are and where you hang out. 

[I did meet some total freaks, maniacs and losers but i) they had names like Xpress Male, which is actually very clever but unsurprisingly was a total-not-even-remotely-amusing sleaze and/or ii) after judicious inquiry were obviously a 300 pound 48 year old living with his mother.]

I met Dave/LeSinge on that Irish channel; he is a fabulous bloke and I love him to death.  He lent me his sofa for a couple nights during my Dublin-Galway-Belfast Tour Of 2000 and he’s been a great friend over the years, very supportive through various crises and encouraged me to take the fateful trip from Dublin up to Belfast in 2000.  So I owe him a lot.

Tuxedo hung out on that same IRC channel too.  I didn’t know him very well, I only chatted to him occasionally as he seemed very shy and not much wanting to chat to me.  So I spent most of my online time chatting and giggling madly with a bunch of Irish, mostly young lads.  Mmm, young lads … They all knew each other In Real Life and were a pretty social bunch.

I became VERY friendly with one in particular; The Boy.  As I’d already planned a return trip to Eire in May 2000 we decided to meet up and “have some fun”.  Unfortunately – although it was blissful at the time, I did have so much fun! – he professed undying love etc etc and I was drawn in, manipulated I guess, to get all worked up and emotional too.  I was very much “in love” with Ireland too, it was a package deal in many ways.  

Of course it ended badly; despite protestations that he’d come visit me in September The Boy never spoke properly to me again once I returned to Australia.  I do not understand men/boys.  It seems just about every woman has this kind of experience.  It had happened to me before with another boyfriend, for crying out loud!  It wasn’t ME saying the romantic gooey lovey stuff in the first place!  I mean, why on earth would someone say stuff like that, when it was totally unnecessary because they were already getting laid?!?!  Argh!  Waaah! 

So I was in bits for a while.  I gradually pulled out of IRC as The Boy was being a dickhead, and I was doing my very best impression of a clingy mental patient which didn’t exactly help. LeSinge was a rock.  And so, it became clear, was Tuxedo.  I had gone up to Belfast for a few days to look around, see some sights, and LeSinge and a couple of others had encouraged me to give Tux [not his nickname back then I should say] a call to head out pubbing.  Now, I’m painfully shy at worst and reserved at best, and cold-calling is not something I do.  But I was in a strange city and I wanted to see the pub culture up north, so I called.

[It has to be said, as it has historical bearing, that Belfast freaked me the fuck out, and never ceased to freak me the fuck out when I lived there later.  If anything I became even more freaked.  You could feel the tension and hatred and paranoia; I’d never seen so many automatic weapons carried so openly and ready for action – openly by police and army and covertly by half the population; the so-called “Peace Line” which I’d envisioned as similar to a white line on a basketball court was the fucking Berlin wall but with a better class of graffiti; there were ugly news stories, pubs you didn’t go into, roads you didn’t go down, etc.]

Tuxedo and I met for drinks and dinner and more drinks.  He’d brought along a few friends, two couples he’d been friends with for years.  Months later, when I met them again, they commented on the spark between us and that we’d have been far more decent if we just did it right there on the table.  Yes, there was major sparkage, lots of eye contact and non-stop easy conversation [which I’m not good at, the first time I meet someone].  And that was it. 

He walked me back to the hostel I was staying, gave me a big full body hug which I reciprocated, and that was it.  [There might have been more if I wasn’t so dotty about The Boy down in Dublin and if Tuxedo hadn’t been dotty about some Canadian floozy who turned out to be a backstabbing bitch … but I’m getting ahead of myself.]

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  • Scary  On Sunday 17 February 2008 at 4:09 am

    This is a ridiculously long post. I will have to read it over the course of a few days. The first ten paragraphs or so kept my interest though. I’ll let you know about the next ten soon.

  • Scary  On Sunday 17 February 2008 at 4:19 am

    An additional BTW, I haven’t been by because I am now only visiting/ commenting on the weekends. It takes up sooooo much time to get round to everyone every day and Jeremiah was beginning to think I was married to the computer. So I’ll be back next weekend. Have a good one!

  • otterkat  On Sunday 17 February 2008 at 5:53 am

    Fixed! Now in three [slightly more] more manageable parts, plus have inserted the compress/expand doo-dad.

    Thanks for reading as far as you did! I guess you can kinda relate, being an inter-continental r’ship yourself?

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