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ME, WOMEN AND MY COMPUTER! PART #2

SomaliNet Forum (Archive): Somali Women's Forum: Archive (Before Feb. 16, 2001): ME, WOMEN AND MY COMPUTER! PART #2
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STUDBOY

Friday, January 05, 2001 - 03:30 pm
........ making love in megabytes that would have blown the circuits of the machines in GTA (Greater Toronto Area).

Now my feeling grew stronger, but I still worried about her. Was it just me, or was I really putting more into our relationship than she was? I wonder why she wasn't more considerate, more caring, and I remembered how she was put together- had I forget tenderness? I wanted her to have expectations too, but had I given her any? Was it my mistake for relying on floppy disks instead of hard drive? Then came the argument. First she complained that we never went out anymore. Then she said that I never gave her credit for having a mind of her own.

When she accused me of being a user, I really get mad. I called her user-friendly. One day she left a note on our electronic bulletin board, We weren't compatible, still that word rings inside my mind, she said, and no longer made her bits tingle. She was leaving me for one of the Mario Brothers. It could have been worse, I thought. At least it wasn't Donkey Kong. Frantically I reached for the return key, but I was too late. It was all over between us. but I knew in my heart she would never be more than few screens away from me.
My first reaction was to go on bender. I kept hitting the space bar and sucking down voltage like there was no tomorrow. I was bitter. I had given her everything, and this is the thanks I got. When the microchips were down, where was she? And where did she get this attitude, anyway? After all, I had carefully avoided Ms. magazine and many more in the scanning process such as Sisters, Essence, and lot of Negro owned magazine due their attitude toward young African male in North America.
But when I came down from high density and had a chance to think it over, I blamed myself for everything. Even with the chance to create my ideal woman. I did what I had always done before, making all wrong choices, pursuing a relationship that couldn't possibly fill my needs, let alone my dreams. Yes, I had given her everything a woman could ask for. Even a highly active Amygdaloid complex but in the end it was too much.
With all the time I wasted trying to control her, I should have tried harder to control myself. I couldn't let it end like that. I had to find her. I began obsessively networking in and out of other systems all over the world. I went Chicago, where a broker booted up his quotron one morning and found a huge eye staring back at him.
I landed in memory banks of animation house in japan and I had to run from a band of screaming turtles armed with martial arts weapons. Then I popped up on a screen in Des Moines, where a little boy chased me around TV set with vicious PAC man. Soon my worst fears were realized. My bits slipped, my memory lapsed and my charge was down. no doubt about it -- I had caught the Somalia worlord's software virus from dirt disk. Just as things were looking dim, I popped up in the databank of computer dating service. I was never thrilled with the idea of computer dating before.

A gorgeous mainframe with fully loaded pair of Pentium III did not sound attractive to me, no matter how much RAM it had behind it. But after quick run through the other files, I found myself surrounded by attractive, fun-loving females. it wasn't the same as having the women of my dreams, but if I had lost the control I expected from mega-system, I didn't miss it. Instead I had the sense of adventure, the excitement that comes with meeting people. If anything I was back to playing the field, but with a much wider field to choose from. There was only one problem. Until someone from the outside accessed my file, I was trapped in the system. there was no return key, no escape button that could help. Then finally it happen. I felt a sudden charge, there was a loud " POP" and everything went black. I was off on my first computer dating. Two months and 12,960 dates later, I'd been to every restaurant, bar, cafe, club, museum, and movie in town.

I still dream about those Barbara, Mary and Beth but also Stacy, Laura, Lori Laurie, Barbie, Cindy, Vivian, candy and Pauline and over 12,960 new names that I have never seen before. and I can't even name them, including every version of Kathy-- with a K-, a C-, a Y, an I, an E, you name it.
I should have been having the time of my life, but I was exhausted, worn down and tapped out. to pay for the dinner checks, the movie tickets, the admission fee, cover charges and table minimums, I got my wallet bleeding to death, I had to doctor my financial records. But the police caught on to me, and they traced the modem line. dating service raised their prices they wanted to charge me a frequent-user fee.

To Be ConTinuE...


stay tuned conclusion part...meanwhile i would like to hear from young somali writers if there is any on this forums.

I can be reached at: studboy@canada.com

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