He went to the blogger’s contact page, typed in his name, his email address, and his blog’s URL. Then he entered his comment:
I am in love with you. I am mesmerized by your words, your verbs, your nouns, your adjectives, and even your adverbs. Your grammar, punctuation, and usage are exquisite. Your every sentence is so well conceived and constructed, you paragraphs are riveting. Your writer’s voice is exquisite. I image you to be a vision of pure beauty and elegance. I must meet you. Tell me where you live. I will drive, sail, or fly to you, but I cannot go on much longer without being touched by the real, physical you as I have been touched by the abstract, metaphysical, cyber you. I eagerly await your response.
The response came back a few days later:
Thank you for reaching out to me. I was truly touched by your message. But you need to understand that I am not who you believe me to be. I, like you, am merely a blogger who marvels at the majesty of words. But in reality, I am invisible. You have painted an image of me that uses only the metaphoric ink I have poured onto the symbolic pages of my blog. My writing has allowed you to create an ink blot of my visage that can be seen only by your mind’s eye. I am to you who I want you to imagine me to be. So, knowing the impossibility of being able to live up to who you wish me to be, I must decline your request to meet in the real world.
His disappointment upon receiving the response was immense. He would not give up and wrote back:
You are not invisible to me. I see you clearly and I am smitten. Your words show me who you really are, a warm, tender, sensitive, emotive, empathetic individual who has cast a spell upon me, one that can only be broken by meeting the you who exists in the physical world. You have taken my heart and I beg you to not deny me the opportunity to complete the portrait of the person your words have outlined.
A few days later, another email response arrived:
Okay listen up, dude. I know I have a way with words, but let me be real with you. I’m actually a 48 year old, 400 pound guy sitting on my bed in my mother’s basement in her house in New Jersey. So if you still wanna meet me in the real world, sure. We can meet at Newark Airport on the second Tuesday of next week.
The guy from New Jersey was shocked when he got this response:
Works for me. How about this coming Tuesday in Terminal C.
Written for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge. Photo credit: Origin Eight.