Current mood: blessed

Hi everyone,

Well, I just experienced my most catastrophic online romance yet. It sure started out in a proming way. He was everything I was looking for in a man. We had many similar interests. He could spell, knew how to use punctuation, had a terrific sense of humor and a great sense of fun. He just got me. We progressed from email and IM to texting and phone conversations and then...unfortunately, I turned over a few conversational rocks and discovered some writhing maggots.

I was actually devastated by the turn of events, grateful that I have started to read the danger signs more closely and actually listen to the things guys say. I have discovered that most guys tell you who they are in the first five minutes. We just tend to skim between the lines, seeing the truth the way we want to see it.

In between some pretty hot conversations, some truths about this guy started to emerge. I am glad I found out sooner rather than later, because the fact is, gay, straight, young old, most guys are asses and they are liars.

The funny thing was, in my last, harrowing phone conversation with my...how shall I put it...phantom lover on Thursday night, I was still devastated at uncovering (with a swift google search) a host of unpleasant truths and was surprised he even had the temerity to call me.

Maybe he thought the email I sent with the subject line 'google search' was some sort of massage technique with a very happy ending?

I was surprised how caught up I got in this electronic wonderland and it was hard to give up the morning calls I got and the goodnight calls, the funny messages about his meetings. Naturally, these are things you lose when you give a man the heave-ho. At the time, I remember my fellow author Tess MacKall making a comment about how intense online romances become and it's true.

Had I not experienced this particular situation I would never have had some good dialogue and characterization for the book I just turned into my publisher.

You see, as I listened to the phony concoction of b/s my phantom lover tried to bake in my oven, I stopped being upset. I ran to my desk and jotted down almost everything he said. And then I tool my WIP Island Bois: the Eight of Swords for eXTasy Books' tarot series and turned my personal angst into erotic art.

Now the excellent thing about writing fiction is that you can do whatever you want to your phantom lover without fear of reprisal. I turned my wannabe adonis into a creepy, pencil-dicked loser (he's lucky I let him have a penis at all). I debated killing him off but making a fat, cross-eyed smelly guy who ends up all alone with his cell phone was the best revenge.

What I learned at the cyber revolution is that one way or another, I ALWAYS get my man.

Aloha oe,

a.j.