Virtual Love
I met him on a mailing list and he’s too far away. I feel the warmth and dignity behind the anonymous and sometimes awkward words. Why do we communicate only in words and words that are stripped of voices， hands， and bodies， at that. I have fallen. Tripped. Fallen. Down. Don’t like this--at all.
I hope--do I hope? Really? Rather， I believe that it is ‘I wish’ because I think he already has his special someone... Hard to swallow， but I think so.... So ‘I wish’ that some day， before it’s too late， I can see him and meet the physical him. Even if he’s not free， I want to meet him. I want to meet him and be available， just in case he changes his mind. Here I am sitting in the middle of Seoul， in a hasook-jip and what am I doing? Listening to Tipex. I am so starving for the music that he will send me soon， I hope. Then maybe I will see a part of him， maybe I will see his hand. A t least， a morsel of him. Oh， I wish that I had never seen a picture of him; that he did not send me his and that I did not send him mine. Then we will be less real to each other， more distant. There would have been more skepticism on both ends--at least， I think. I don’t like selling my heart to someone like this that I don’t even know. Why did he ask for my picture anyway? Oh right， his friend asked him what I looked like. Why did this friend care anyway? Why did he use that excuse?--Well， because he was curious， but did not want to be misunderstood.... He was so concerned about his intentions being misunderstood， which is why I think that he has a special someone already....
Well， gotta say， it’s been going on for awhile. Since mid-April. Well， okay， it’s long by email standards. I mean it’s already mid-June. That means that we’ve been corresponding for like two months--more like eight weeks， a sixth of a year， in terms of its significance. And he still wants to stay in touch with me. We’ve chatted a couple of times. Why did he want to? The first couple of times he waited around for me to come on-line. In mommy’s words， “The poor guy must be so bored.” What a way to put it! Alright， fair enough， true enough. It’s true. He’s fresh out of the navy and doesn’t have a job. He’s killing time and here I am at the other end of the screen all the time. Right. How lame is that? It doesn’t seem to bother him much though.
Listening to Tipex， I feel like I’ve come home. I know， I’m starting to think about moving to Israel. That crazy place. I didn’t fall in love with Eretz Yisrael like any Jew is supposed to. But I am starting to fall for someone there. That’s big and if anything is going to move me there， it will be him. I can’t believe I just said that. No guy can dictate my move or future， I thought. No， only if it’s mutual. But I feel like if I love an Israeli， Israel can be a really comfortable place for me. I also feel like he will have light footwork. And will be willing to move around a lot more. I need that. I’m a traveler and a nomad by birth and nurture--though I didn’t notice it until June 6， 2002， when I was showering the morning after I arrived at Seoul and felt the surging excitement of being in a foreign country I am completely unfamiliar with. I am so excited and energized everyday. I want to learn the language well. I want to be fluent in two more years. Should be able to manage. Then brush up my French. Then take off for a year to Israel. I bet I will marry an Israeli or a New Yorker. I can’t imagine anyone else who will be able to understand and love me the way I am: intense， serious， intellectual， loving， religious in practice and completely secular in values--devoted to living creatures in this world， not to anyone in l’olam habah. Who else but an intensely intellectual Tel Avivite or New Yorker? Why am I so sure? I don’t know. Probably because I’m writing this. And because I’m listening to Tipex. :) (Gosh， I love those face symbols--the great inventions of e-mail!) For the moment I feel that way anyway.
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