Her grey eyes pierce into me from between (img src = "001.jpg" height=... ) tags. Her face is framed by dark locks just as her page is framed, and she bears a wry smile in what few pix I’ve seen her in. I’m in love with photons emitted from the phosphor of my monitor. She appears in the middle of the night, a string of text on a messenger. We are together every night and cyber whenever possible. She knows my tastes and fetishes, and has been shopping for me for when I arrive.

I’ve bought a ticket with Delta airlines to make her real. I have to reach into this box of silicon and wire and make her real. I think that I’m going insane, thinking so much about a half volt difference between two spindly, silver legs on a chip. My modem blinks in orgasm when we’re together. She is slightly submissive and is the same age as me. I call her sometimes, but always precede it with a "ring ring" sent through routers and switches.

I am a techie by nature and profession, but love this way is so sad and hard. There is a constant yearning to touch with more than just my flailing fingertips. She doesn’t type as quickly as I and sometimes makes spelling mistakes that she corrects quickly. After our first cyber where I lead and she enjoyed, she emailed me her first work of erotic prose in return. She is sweet and caring, and I look forward to her company every night.

I lied to her at first, but have remedied that guilt. A heart can only take so much ache induced by electronic-erotica. I told her that I had my nipples pierced. I was late checking in with her on Tuesday, and having done the deed, I came clean. It was a wonderful reset, and I felt much better for it as my nipples sang to me in pain and pleasure (they still do a week later). I wonder if my heart could conduct electric current through nipply nodes now? I’ve seen arcing and sparks when online... .

Her nic is based on the word "Purgatory". Fitting, fate and circumstance. I am 4chilles, with a weakness for online techno-goths. Ones and zeros, like light and dark, strobe my existence and both warm and chill me. There are no half-measures in this world. I fear that it shall come undone when she is made real. I will not say a word when I see her in the airport. I want to touch her for the first time. Imagine the electricity when the circuit is finally closed.

This is my love letter to her. I’ve posted it for the world to see. I will arrive in Austin on Valentine’s Day at 6:30, just in time to take her out for dinner. I just hope that the restaurant can lend us a pair of computers so that we can feel at home and can converse. Until then, Purgatory, accept my bitwise kisses (k)(k)(k)(k)(k)(k)(k)(k)(k)(k)k [the ones like that cause for sloppy necking](k)(k)(k)(k)(k)(k)(k)(k)(k)(k)(k). ;P