And Then She… | February 2002


With Valentine’s Day coming up, I thought it would be a good time to run and hide. Then I remembered I have a column to write.

So with that in mind, I start out with a little story about love on the Internet. Interestingly enough, I had been reading lately about the importance of smell and pheromones in attracting members of the opposite sex. And well, while this story doesn’t talk much about pheromones, smell does factor in it…

She was the girl of my dreams. We met on the Internet. Ours began as an electronic “pen pal” relationship. We met in a chat room, perhaps the only two people who were actually using our true names as screen names, rather than the more typical “im2gd4u,” “beastly69″ and others we can’t print here.

We started “talking” in the chat room and corresponding by e-mail, learning a little more about each other. We had seen each other’s photographs and interests on our respective profiles, and not only did we find each other attractive physically, we found we had many interests in common. We both liked to work out, for example, and we enjoyed the same types of music and foods.

We also flirted a lot with each other, openly, in the chat room. Oh, to be sure, we would both flirt heavily with others as well. I’d flirt with a lot of the women who came in to the chat room, just as Marjie (as I called her) would flirt with the other guys. But when both of us were in the room together, it was understood by the others that they should leave us alone, and they were usually pretty good about that.

This friendly flirting went on for several months, until one day, when I realized I was falling for Marjie . So I sent her a private message and asked if I could call her on the phone. I expected her to decline politely, so I was happily surprised when she said yes and gave me her phone number!

We talked for hours, yet it seemed like only minutes. We talked every night for weeks. Thankfully, I had a generous cell phone plan or else I would’ve gone bankrupt.

We made plans to meet in person. Marjie lived out west, and I’d never been out that way but always wanted to go, so we decided I’d fly out there. I made the necessary arrangements and soon enough (actually, it felt more like, “not soon enough”) the big day came. I could only imagine what it would be like, finally, to hold Marjie in my arms, look into her beautiful green eyes, touch her scarlet hair with my own fingers.

I called Marjie from the airport right before boarding the airplane. She had told me before that she had a “slight” problem with gas and now she was telling me she was so nervous it was worse than usual. “No problem, dear,” I told her, trying to calm her fears. “Everything will be alright when I get there, sweetie.”

I boarded the airplane and soon, we were airborne. I fell asleep which I normally don’t do on airplanes, and I began to dream about Marjie . Without her knowledge, I had done some research on the town she lived in (Provo, Utah) and learned what were the best restaurants, most romantic spots, and other good places to go in the area. I planned out an incredible first date and soon my dreams on the airplane were filled with all kinds of pleasant images of Marjie and me together, all over Provo.

The airplane landed smoothly and I woke up. Marjie would be waiting for me at the airport (Salt Lake City was the nearest) so my heart began racing with excitement. I couldn’t wait! In minutes, I’d finally be holding her in my arms, the woman of my dreams!

As soon as the airplane finished taxiing, I grabbed my carry-on bag from the overhead bin and stood impatiently as the passengers in front of me took what seemed like eons to leave the airplane. Finally, my turn came and I darn near bowled over a couple of fellow passengers in my eagerness to see Marjie.

I left the tunnel and searched left and right for Marjie. Then someone reminded me that because of security reasons, non-passengers weren’t allowed in the boarding areas. Of course, I thought, as I headed for the baggage claim area to look for my Marjie.

As I got closer to the security checkpoint (beyond which non-passengers weren’t allowed) I saw her. My heart skipped a few beats as I realized she was more beautiful in person than her photo could possibly show.

“Marjie!” I yelled, and she yelled back, “Frank!” I ran towards her, my carry-on swinging in my hand and its weight keeping me off-balance just enough that I must’ve seemed comical. But I didn’t care. For a second even, I noticed everyone else had given her plenty of space; the crowd seemed to have moved away from her. But it didn’t bother me at all.

As I got close to Marjie, I let the carry-on fall from my hand and I reached out to her with both arms. Finally! We hugged and I held her tightly and then…

And then she farted.