This entry brought to you by some cotton and the number 9.

by blank at 10:27 PM on December 11, 2003

Not to let Linz monopolize on the stories of infatuation and longing, I’m going to lift my sleeve and expose some cardiac muscle for all to see because I have a story that has put me in a good mood for several weeks. Yes, even the most cynical fucks can be happy. You’d be amazed at how often I’m pleasantly surprised and how rarely I’m disappointed.

This story starts one evening when I’m cleaning out my overstuffed closet and the corner of a panoramic photo pokes out at me. Those damn things never fit in a photo album and this one was just taunting me to look at it. So, I yanked it out and there she was with a smile and arms open wide ready to give a hug. I had to pause and recover from the synaptic fire.

The first time I met Athena, she gave me a hug. I was taken off guard: “Who the hell is this and what is going on?” She then wrapped her arms around everyone else in the dorm room one at a time. The awkwardness passed quickly into comfort and after that first meeting I found myself trying to run into her as often as possible. I was addicted to the embrace.

It’s odd and sad at the same time that this sort of behavior isn’t the norm. Just imagine if all your friends hugged you every time you met. I don’t know about everyone else, but I think I’d be less crabby more often. Most people I tell this to find the hugs strange and embarrassing, but I craved them. Human contact and I didn’t have to buy them anything first.

After college we just lost touch. Her college e-mail went away and bounced back my messages. I did have her parent’s address and sent a letter, but got no reply. I did get a few post cards from her when she went on a trip to Japan, but since they were only post cards, I had no return address to reply to. After a while I thought I’d never see her again and then that picture popped up.

I had to try and find her again. There had to be a way. I put the photo with her postcards and searched through massive amounts of e-mail hoping to find a message from her that came via a still-working e-mail address. No luck. I dove into another pit o’ junk in my apartment pursuing my address book. No luck. I searched through my collection of “Oh! My Goddess” comics looking for fan art by her sister in the letters section and maybe finding a working e-mail address. No luck. Options gone.

I slouched over at my computer desk in defeat and clicked to check Badsamaritan.com. When my browser window sprung open to Google.com, the planets aligned and the universe made sense. I had humanity’s card catalogue at my fingertips.

So, I began searching the web. I searched her name. No luck. I searched her internet handle. No luck. I searched her e-mail signature. No luck. I combined those things different ways and bingo! I came across an old Yahoo! Group that she posted on for a few years. It wouldn’t show her e-mail address, but no problem. I’ll join the group and then it will. No luck. Yahoo! wouldn’t let me join. I read through most of the messages hoping for a clue, but found none. Sans luck.

This got me stomping around in my apartment. I was so close. What else could I do? I returned to the computer for another try. If you rearrange the words in a Google search you’ll get different results, so I tried it. One of the top entries was her blog. Luck!

I had to resist the urge to run outside and pull a George Bailey. I couldn’t read any of the blog because I couldn’t sit still. Once I got a hold of myself, I posted a comment on her blog using only my first name.

The next day she replied, knowing exactly who I was, with surprise, saying that she was just thinking of me and wondering what I was up to. Extra luck! She had sent some postcards that I never got and was about to file me under friends she’d probably never see again. She didn’t get my letter either and thought maybe the Post Office has an agenda against us. New contact info was exchanged, but e-mail just doesn’t have the same effect as hugs. I hope to remedy that soon.