February 14th, 2008 10:40 EST
When Love Logs In
I never really liked the idea of Valentine's Day. During my school years, February 14 was one of the most stressful days in the entire semester as I always feared I would be the one who wouldn't receive any card. Although my fears proved groundless most of the times, the trauma of Valentine's Day remained for a long time. Until I met her, my Kristin.
She was my Juliet. The Internet was my Verona. A pen pals website was my balcony. Even though the contemporary world lacks the romanticism of Shakespearean dramas, it can still create surprises worthy of the great Victorian writer. As for nothing else, but a Heaven-made joke do I take the fact that among hundreds of millions of people who happened to be online at that time, I came across her.
Thousands of miles were between us, but the distance never seemed a serious obstacle. Like in a cliché online relationship we would impatiently wait for the next e-mails, chat with flushed cheeks, and torment a mail carrier to check once again whether there was a letter for us. I will never forget the sweet sensation when I heard her voice for the first time. If Alexander Graham Bell had still been alive, I would have given him a hug. Kristin and I were learning each other with the same untroubled passion like kids learn their ABCs in grammar school. Throughout the weeks an idea evolved into flesh, friendship evolved into something greater that neither of us dreaded pronouncing.
One month had passed until we met in person. Kristin doesn't wear the blue costume of Superman but to risk over 20 hours on the plane through six different time zones for a guy she had only known from e-mails calls for supernatural strength. Seven days later I was standing at an airport, waving goodbye to my girlfriend as she was leaving to go back home – but not for long.
Since that visit we have met dozens of times. For me, Kristin forced herself to like my dog; for her, I entered a plane – something I had promised myself I would do only for someone special. She didn't mind my Polish complaining; I didn't mind her overly-optimistic American thinking. Love is blind, also to cultural differences.
It's been over a year since we met in the labyrinth of the Internet. On January 9, 2008, I knelt down before Kristin and ask her if she wanted to be my wife. She said – or rather shouted – “yes.” So if you see a beautiful girl with a bunch of wedding catalogs in her hands, it may be Kristin. The most probable date for our wedding: spring 2009.
Today, on February 14, we are still thousands of miles apart, but our hearts are as close as possible. Soon, I will log into my messenger and chat with the girl who means the world to me. We will talk about what happened today and how we will spend next Valentine's Day, together.
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