“I was on the internet before it was cool,” I said to my co-worker Dave. He laughed, a laugh which I quickly recognized as his “Laura’s lost her mind” laugh. I get that laugh a lot.
Ignoring his response, as I so often do, I continued. “I did! I had AOL for DOS!” Almost proudly, as if this doesn’t reveal my inner geekiness.
Well, I have been on the internet before it was cool. We had AOL for DOS on our Hewlett Packard Bell (do they make those anymore?), which I had named Annie. I name everything. Usually after soap stars. But I digress.
Back to the internet: I was about 13 years old, so we’re looking at ’94, ’95. I used to connect at 2400 bytes per second (that’s 2.4K compared to the minimum dial-up connection today of 56K) and thought it was the coolest thing in the world.
The Internet. Wow.
As cool as the internet was, even cooler were the friendships that I developed – and still have – as a result of surfing the net.
Yeah, I know, there’s always talk about cyber-stalkers and dangerous internet liaisons, but, just like in politics, the bad is always highlighted and never the good.
When I was about 14, a friend of mine from high school said he and some people he knew online were starting a General Hospital role play. I immediately wanted to join. Go ahead. Laugh it up. We’d improv our own scenes and dialogue from the show sometimes as much as six hours a day. I still have the chats saved.
I swear I’m relatively well adjusted. Relatively.
Through this role play, I met a girl my age (I’m 12 days older, to be exact) named Arica Marfoglia (pronounced Air-ick-ah Mar-foe-lee-ah, just spelled different). Arica and I became fast friends, talking for hours online and, eventually, over the phone.
My parents were okay with this as long as my portion of the long distance phone bill was paid every month, which it was. Remember, this is before everyone and their four-year-olds had cell phones.
Arica and I have met in person – several times. The first time we met was at the end of my freshman year of high school. My parents allowed me to fly to Buffalo, Arica’s hometown, so we could spend a week together. This took place after numerous phone calls between both sets of parents to insure that no psycho stalkers were involved.
There is no scary ending, no sob stories. Arica and I had a great time, laughing and talking just like we’d done over the phone and online. And now, over ten years and half a dozen in-person visits later, we’re still best friends.
So you’d think that my parents would get the whole online friendships thing. My dad, honestly, doesn’t pay much attention to it. He just hears me tapping away at the computer and thinks of nothing except for thanking his health insurance for covering numerous tests for carpal tunnel in years past and thanking my current health insurance for covering the physical therapy I’m in now.
My mom, on the other hand, doesn’t quite seem to get it. I was leaving a message for my new online friend, Gretchen Leonardia, while in the kitchen with my mom. Gretchen and I met through a Yahoo! Group devoted to the television show House, called House_MD@groups.yahoo.com (creative, no?). As I hung up from leaving Gretchen the message, my mother turned to me and said, “What do you two talk about?”
I looked at her with one of my classic “What are you smoking?” looks (perhaps even spoke the phrase) and expanded by adding, “Things.”
Apparently this wasn’t enough for her, so I went on, “I don’t know. Stuff.” She continued to give me one of her classic “Who is this person and did I really give birth to her?” looks.
Possibly I shrugged. “We don’t just talk about House.” I was defensive now. “We talk about her kids and our jobs and normal friends things.” And then I stopped and giggled, recalling the numerous conversations Gretchen and I have had over the last two months. “Oh, and Hugh Laurie. House/Cam! Squee!”
Remember, I said I’m *relatively* well adjusted.
Gretchen and I talk a lot. We have Cingular with mobile to mobile, so we can talk for free whenever we want – which is convenient given the time difference. Gretchen resides in Irvine, CA. We also email all of the time. She sends me scandalous pictures of Hugh Laurie and videos of her kids and I send her pictures of my dog and pictures of myself with a pink pillow on my head doing my impression of Princess Toadstool. She tells me I’m funny and intelligent and I tell her she’s funnier and intelligenter. I talk to her while shopping, and in the middle of the conversation stop and say, “Oh! Votives!” when I see they are only 33 cents. She complains to me about her co-worker, code-named Yeemey, and I stress that some day he will have his comeuppance.
We’re friends. Gretchen and I make wild plans to kidnap Hugh Laurie, or in a pinch, Viggo Mortensen. We email each other after every House/Cameron moment, saying only “Squee!” and yet understanding exactly what each other means. Arica and I gush at every Josh/Donna moment on The West Wing (seasons 1-4, of course). And we giggle every time one of us says, “Sam’s pretty.” It doesn’t matter that we’re 300 miles away (as I am with Arica) or nearly 3,000 (as I am with Gretchen).
We’re friends. What do we talk about? Things. Stuff. House. Love. Life. Dreams. Sam’s pretty. Squee.
