Compiled anecdotes of love in our modern world.

1: MODEM LOVE, by Teddy Edwards
2: WEDDING RINGS, by Jess Bidgood
3: REAL LOVE (ON CHATROULETTE), by Connor Simpson
4: NOT LIKE THEIR PROFILES, by Caitlin Abber

MODEM LOVE

By: Teddy Edwards

In my small suburban hometown, Autumn meant two things: school, and the annual parade, which was put on as a fund-raiser by the local parish. While the good parochial school children worked in funnel cake and dunk tank booths, the public school kids got drunk. The parade was infamous for being the catalyst in many juicy hook-ups, and on that balmy fall night, I became its next victim.

Her name was Cassidy. I was young and my shyness was paralyzing. We settled on some nearby steps, and after about fifteen minutes of inaction she took matters into her own hands: “God just do it!” she shrieked, and kissed me. She kissed me. She had a stick of big red chewing gum. I had a Dr. Pepper.

I was sure to get her AIM screen name. I went home that night and added her to my buddy list — she was online! I was eager and IMed her. I can still recall the font she used — Comic Sans, maroon (later, her font of choice would be an orange Arial — it’s all in the details).

From that night on, we talked almost daily online. We became great friends — and by great friends, I mean great friends who talked incessantly on AIM but almost never in person. That kind of “great friends.”

Soon, I began to get the feeling that she was embarrassed by me. She liked me enough to talk to me online, but she seldom spoke to me in the hallways of our school, or in person at all.

For Christmas, we made each other mix CD’s. Cassidy included Something Corporate’s “I Kissed A Drunk Girl.” On the track list, she drew an arrow to the song title and the caption “That’s you!” I had to laugh, but it was sad in a way. I was so enamored with this girl that I was willing to be the brunt of her jokes. Something told me that through it all, she kinda cared. Each character of an SMS message was a bit of caring; each instant message, a byte of affection; each phone call, understanding.  Years after our first kiss, I’ve cut my losses and moved on, but I have no regrets about spending the years I did anxiously awaiting a vibration from my phone, or the apparition of a chat box on my desktop with orange, Arial font: “hey.”