|Abby as a baby|
Almost two years after he and I separated, I "met" a guy online - on Yahoo Personals, I believe. The caution was still there, and we met in person for the first time at a crowded McDonald's Play Place. We'll have been married for five years late next month.
So here I am, nine years later, 43 years old, and I'm meeting people online left and right, because I'm a social media kind of person. And I met a friend of a friend online, and he said he'd been sick, and he had some DVDs he could lend me (to feed my Doctor Who habit) and would I like to come over? "Sure," I replied, "I'll bring you some soup." I went, and (at my mother's request, and yes, still 43 years old) called my mom both when I got there and when I left there. For the record, I had met the guy in person years before, at a Science Fiction convention, not that that would have eased my mother's mind much. And he had been sick, so if he is an axe-murderer, he's out on sick leave; too weak to lift the axe.
And now I'm corresponding online with a number of young women (at least they tell me they're young women and I choose to believe that they are not - say - 60yo bald pedophilic axe-murderers in disguise) because we all like to write and we take turns editing each others' writings. A couple of them were concerned that I wouldn't be willing to chat with them because their parents had trained them to be Internet-cautious and they weren't giving out identifying information. I assured them that actually, I applaud their parents. And if you - yeah you, the one who claims to live near me - if you ever want to meet, I'm happy to talk to your parents and assure them that I am exactly who I claim to be... a forty-something unemployed, overweight, basically-cheerful (winter notwithstanding) mom, wife, and blogger. I'm not an axe-murderer.