The Perils of Love Ch. 01

I made tons of friends. Most were guys, but there were a few girls, too. Friendly girls, not girlfriends.

One of those girls was named Selena. She woke me up somehow. She and her roommate, Nikki, were both in their final year of undergraduate studies in the school of nursing. They both pretty quickly became friendly with me and several of my other new friends. We all lived in the same residence hall tower. They lived on one of the all-girl floors, and I lived on the floor above. The fact their room was directly underneath mine gave us cause to meet.

One afternoon, Selena came to the open door of my room, annoyed because I was bouncing a rubber ball off the floor and a wall while concentrating on solving a calculus problem. It was something I did out of habit when I was focused on a difficult task. She very politely asked me to cease and desist because the sound was coming through her ceiling.

I immediately and deferentially apologized because I didn't realize a small rubber ball could possibly be heard through solid concrete. I was ready for a break, so I invited her to join me, my roommate, and a few friends for dinner in the cafeteria on the first floor. She accepted.

It became a nightly ritual. Anywhere from five to eight of us would eat at the same table. Selena, Nikki, and Eddie were almost always there. The others varied. It was comforting because it was a predictable routine, and we all got along with each other.

Selena was the girl next door type. She had incredibly long, wavy, reddish-brown hair. She was petite and curvy. Her grandparents had emigrated to the States from … wait for it … Germany. It's purely coincidental, but I still think it's funny.

Her wit was sometimes acerbic. She had a slight edge to her personality I found very entertaining. She was so aggressive in her opinions that conversations often went off the rails with tons of rabbit-chasing and tangential topics when something went contrary to her opinions. After following a very long trail of bunnies over dinner one evening, Selena challenged me about something I'd concluded.

"There are some questions guys won't ask their girlfriends because they either don't want to know the answer, or are afraid to embarrass or offend," I'd said.

"Why would you think such a thing? There's nothing you could ask me that would embarrass or offend me."

"What size bra do you wear?" asked my roommate.

I expected him to get slapped.

"Not answering that," she calmly said.

"See? It's true!" Eddie said.

"Wrong. I'm neither offended nor embarrassed. It's just none of your business," Selena countered. "Not to mention the fact I'm not your girlfriend."

Stuart piped up and asked, "What kind of feminine hygiene products do you use?"

Nikki groaned and rose from the table. "You're gross, Stu. I'm leaving."

He followed her, yelling, "Selena started it!"

I think Stuart had an unrequited thing for Nikki.

Selena didn't blush or even change her expression. She was a stone-cold poker player.

"Same answer! None-ya-biz !" she yelled then laughed.

"I'm out," Eddie said. "I've gotta go write a FORTRAN program."

Those words were his not-secret-enough code for, "I'm going to the bathroom and might be a while."

Selena and I were left alone. She rose and picked up her tray.

"36B. Don't tell Eddie or Stu," she whispered to me as she stepped out, leaving me stunned stupid.

Two weeks later was finals week. It was my first as a college student, and it was grueling.

Day one went fine. I was pretty sure I'd aced both tests. On day two, I wasn't feeling good, but managed to do fairly well on the single exam I had. By day three, I was definitely ill. During my chemistry final, I needed to excuse myself to the hallway, twice, to vomit into a trashcan. One of the proctors had to watch to make sure I wasn't doing something else like freaking cheating .

Selena was on her way to the campus when we passed on the pedestrian bridge which led to our residence hall. It was snowing, and there was already four inches on the path.

"Oh my gosh, Gary, you look terrible! Are you okay?"

"No. I think I've come down with something."

I told her what happened during my Chem test. She lifted my coat's hood a little, pulled my head down, and kissed my forehead.

"Good lord. You're burning up. I've gotta take my family health exam. I'll check on you as soon as I'm done. It'll probably be a couple of hours, okay?"

She kissed my forehead again before resuming her brisk pace to the campus.

At 8:30 that night, she knocked. I was alone because Eddie skipped his last final and departed early for home for the winter break to avoid the snow.

I left our⁠—my door unlocked so Selena could enter without me getting out of bed.

She'd brought hot soup. Along with it, she brought a thermometer which she stuck under my tongue. She sat next to me and ran her fingers through my hair.

"You're really sweaty. Feeling like crap, huh?"

I nodded. Even though I was sweating, I felt cold. She dried my head with a bath towel I had hanging on a hook, then continued stroking my hair.

When a few minutes had elapsed, she withdrew the thermometer from my mouth.

"Crap , dude. 104.3. Have you taken anything?"

"No."

"I'll be right back," she said as she left my room. I took a sip of the soup. It tasted good and salty and warm, but I simply wasn't hungry.

When she returned about ten minutes later, she was loaded for bear. She brought a couple of gallon-sized zip-top bags full of crushed ice, another bath towel, a foil packet of acetaminophen, and a big bottle of green Gatorade.

"Swallow these and take off your shirt."

She handed me two capsules along with the drink. I didn't realize how thirsty I was until my first swallow took the pills with it. I gulped down two more heavy swigs then noticed Selena standing in front of me with a lined trashcan in her hands. She was wise to anticipate, and I was glad I didn't need it.

She'd changed clothes. It wasn't out of the ordinary to see ladies walking around the floors or common areas in modest pajamas, but I'd never seen Selena in anything other than streets. I remember the jammies she was wearing had reindeer playing tug-of-war with garland ropes.

"Come on. Take your shirt off. You're about to be assaulted and I'll kick your ass if I have to."

Her words were all business, but her expression looked tender. I did as I was told.

My bed was situated alongside the wall with its head against the back of the desk. She moved my pillows around and laid the towel on the bed. She placed one pillow against the wall and sat crosswise at the head of my bed with it propped behind her back.

"Come here. Lay down, on your back, right here."

I watched her cautiously for a few moments but was too tired to argue with or question her. She patted her thigh, and I rested my head on it.

"Gary, I can't tell you how bad this is about to get for you, but I'm going to take care of you, okay? What I'm going to do isn't going to feel good, and I'm really very sorry."

She shoved the ice packs into my armpits. Holy hell were they cold! I started shivering again.

"I'm here. I'm right here, Gary. We need to get your body temp down. You're barely a few tenths of a degree from spending Christmas vacation in a hospital."

She prevented me from pulling my blankets over me. She stroked my head and hair as I quaked. She whispered, "I'm not going anywhere, sweetie. I've got you."

"I'm cold!" I said, trembling.

I felt her fingers moving slowly over my chest.

"I know, baby. I know, but you're not. You're burning up. I know this sucks. I know. I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

Somehow, even though I was freezing my balls off, the sensation of her fingers moving through my hair and over my chest managed to lull me into sleep. I was awakened every few hours, though, to have my temperature taken, but she'd ease me back to sleep. The ice packs and Tylenol managed to get my fever down three degrees, then the medicine alone kept it below 101.

Selena stayed the entire night in my room. She could have rested on Eddie's abandoned bed or studied at either desk, but she didn't. She remained awake, studying next to me the whole time, but left in the morning for her last exam. She returned two hours later.

I was sitting up in my bed with blankets over my shoulders when she came into my room.

"It's such a beautiful day, Gary. Look outside. There's at least a foot of snow out there."

I wobbled to the window. The world was an intense, stark white. The crystal blue sky and brilliant snow were so bright it almost made my eyes hurt.

I had no tests that morning. Selena stayed with me for an hour to keep an eye on me. She gave me a light breakfast, making sure I kept it down. She kissed my forehead and cheek.

"Your fever's broke," she said with a smile before she left to go home. "I'll see you in a few weeks. Take care of yourself, okay?"

My last final was that afternoon. My fever remained under control enough to complete the exam, then I drove home for the winter break.

Some-freaking-how, I managed to earn an A on every final except for chemistry where I earned a B. I received bad marks on my redox equations. I've always suspected the proctor convinced my professor to deduct some kind of "style points" because he had to watch me retching my guts up.

Things settled back into a normal routine when the spring semester began.

Well, not totally. Eddie dropped out and had taken his things during the break, so I had the room to myself. I enjoyed getting back with Selena. Sometimes, she'd study with me even though we didn't share any classes. I asked her why.

"Because it's quiet. You keep things neat and tidy. Nikki is messy. Order helps me concentrate. And … it smells nice in here."

Simple as that.

One April evening, I was on the way out of the cafeteria after dinner and I stopped by the mailboxes. Selena was there and saw me. When I retrieved my mail, she recognized something before I did and quickly said, "Don't open that yet. Wait until later, please. I wrote a letter, too. It's in my desk … if you want to read it."

It was a greeting card. I was stupid when I ignored her request. I was stupid when I opened it.

It read, "Gary, I think I'm falling for you. Selena."

There were a pair of hearts drawn in purple ink. One had a smiling face drawn inside it, the other a simple question mark. It was then that I also noticed the card had been scented with her perfume.

I was stupid. I laughed. She bolted out the door.

It wasn't a "Ha ha, that's funny!" laugh, but a shock-induced reflex because I had no freaking clue. I had no clue ! She obviously couldn't have been able to tell the differences between my various kinds, and my errant, stupid laughter embarrassed her.

I was stupid. I was immature. I was an absolute idiot .

Looking back at it later, I realized how, even though I didn't feel the same way at that very moment, if I had only picked up on her signals, I was certain I absolutely would have.

Selena was such a sweetheart. She was a legitimately loving, caring, compassionate, empathetic, intelligent, attractive girl.

The clues escaped me, unnoticed, but then became obvious in hindsight.

She'd said she liked the way my room smelled. Since Eddie had moved out over the winter holiday, the only things in there with scents of their own were my deodorant, soap, shampoo, and the scent of detergent in my clothing. It had to mean she liked the way I smelled.

She'd risked her own health and stayed with me, as sick as I was, and nursed me back to functioning. Her warmth next to me that night made me feel safe and comforted. She'd used tender, affectionate words when I was suffering from the flu, petting my bare chest, and stroking my hair the entire time. She comforted me with my head laying on her thigh. Her thigh !

Then, there was the time at dinner when she'd said something in a challenge to what I'd said about interpersonal dynamics. Dynamics between a hypothetical boyfriend and girlfriend .

How the hell did I miss it when she countered my argument by saying, "There's nothing you could ask me that would embarrass or offend me," then she revealed in a whisper something about a very intimate type of garment she wore. She outright told me the size of her breasts!

My stupid, ignorant laughter in the mailroom mortified her. I never had a chance to explain myself. She swapped rooms with another girl in another tower across campus for the remaining four weeks of classes and I never crossed her path again.

It took me until the summer to finally grow a pair. I was living in South Carolina on an internship when I tried to write her a letter, but found it marked "Return to sender. No forwarding address on file." when it landed back in my mailbox two weeks later.

I said earlier that Selena "woke something up" in me.

She made me realize I was a moron when it came to women … that I was completely blind . I realized the number of times girls might have been displaying interest in me which I completely missed. When I realized how many sweet, smart, beautiful ladies might have been tossing a clue in my direction, I knew how awful I was at paying attention.

I remembered the little blonde cutie in my Intro to Engineering class who insisted on sitting across from me in group-study. She would tap my leg gently with her unshod toes to get my attention before asking me a question instead of clearing her throat, tapping the tabletop, or simply asking the question.

I remembered how Kayla insisted on being my partner for every lab we did in Chemistry.

I remembered the really tall, curvaceous brunette who worked in the computer lab in the math building who would often rest a hand on my shoulder when she showed me how to use different features of different software and how she didn't do that with any other guys working at other stations.

I remembered Siobhan, the gorgeous and witty Irish transplant with the most insanely awesome accent, who would seek me out to teach her Americanisms and slang. We'd both laugh to the point of tears when she would try her pronunciation of certain words with a midwestern accent.

None of those ladies had ever come right out and stated their interest in me until Selena had.

I was clueless. I was absolutely dim . Selena had stepped out on a limb, and I idiotically sawed it right off. To be honest, I sorely regret to this very day not being able to find her and apologize to her.

I'd missed it all, and I missed the experiences I could have had.

I soon realized it wasn't coincidental. It wasn't ignorance. It wasn't simple stupidity.

It was a scar.

Alissa had wounded me, and the scab covered my eyes. It blinded me. My own brain apparently had decided it would never happen again. It seemed I didn't want to see. I never noticed another sign.

I managed to stay focused on my studies and was polishing off my degree in addition to two minors during my senior year. That's when it happened in a most bizarre, yet not bizarre way.

I had finished reading the letter from Melissa announcing her engagement and her desire for me to come to her wedding. It wasn't a printed invitation. She'd taken the time to pen me a letter. I put the date on my calendar because I was truly happy for her, but it did make me a touch jealous. Not of either her or her fiancé, but because they'd found each other yet I was still alone. I still have the letter. It was postmarked September 29, 1992. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to make it because of conflicts with other things I'll get to in a little while.

Not fifteen minutes later, my neighbor barged into my room and said, "Hey, you have got to try this."

He helped himself to my PC and dialed into the campus network to a terminal server. He TELNETed to a university system somewhere else and logged into it.

"What the hell is this?" I asked.

"Wait and watch," he said with a shit-eating grin on his face.

I tried to follow along as he navigated various menus, but all I saw was a directory of users scroll by when he said, "Yay! She's on!"

The screen went blank and the banner changed to "Private Room 271: Kelsey Cooter," or some other porn-star-like name.

I've got a twelve inch banana. he typed.

Yeah, right. It's probably bruised from being beaten, or ripe and mushy. You probably have a vienna sausage. But I'll play anyway since I'm bored and tiny wieners usually pop faster.

I had no idea who Kelsey Cooter was, but I immediately liked her because the response made me laugh pretty hard.

It wasn't like the old character-at-a-time BBS chat. It was like the messaging we know today: a whole blurb at a time.

Be right back! Don't move! he typed, then logged off and disconnected the modem.

"Number 74 in the connection catalog, dude! Try it!"

He bolted out my door and went back to his own room.

I decided, what the hell.

I connected and created an account. Reading the introductory overview, I learned the site was hosted at a major university and was intended as a means to give students a place to collaborate. Somehow, it had escaped to the wild, and folks were logging in from all over the country.

It reminded me of BBSing, but their system was on steroids. It was on the young and fledgling Internet and could support hundreds of concurrent users whereas most BBSes at the time could only support a single call. Most of the public chat rooms were benign sorts, with topics ranging from homework or research help, or people arguing about the latest episode of ST:TNG and other such things.

Some of the rooms were much less "safe for work," and I decided to give one of them a try. I wasn't in one of those rooms for more than ten minutes when I was asked by a user named "Dark Spider" if I wanted to go "private."

I had no idea what the term meant, and I said so.

The response read, OK, the system is going to give you a prompt saying Dark Spider invites you to a random room number. Answer yes.

It did, and I did.

Hi! What's your name? Where are you?

I replied, No way. Not giving anyone my real name. But I did tell the person where I was attending school.

We spent a few minutes exchanging "pleasantries" before things started heating up.

So the first "hot" message she sent read, Imagine we're in a class together, and I'm sitting near you. When I uncross my legs, you catch a little peek up my skirt. Describe what you see and do. Be as explicit as you want.

It was fun. It was fake, sure, but it was fun. I chatted with several other women in much the same way.

So this is net-sex, I thought of the discovery.

I logged in a handful of times per week over the next month.

You need to know, though, that the system was text only. The word "slow" doesn't begin to describe the modems we used back then. Yes, I'm going to give you another "Back In My Day" tidbit of knowledge with a little nerd talk.

The modem installed in my PC was 2400 baud. That meant it could move 2400 bits per second, or 300 bytes per second. Technically, it was less when taking what's called "overhead" into account. When I bought it, I considered it a major upgrade because the previous modem I used with my Commodore only a few years earlier was 1200 baud. The internet connection I have now is 100 megabits per second. That's 83,333 times faster.

It'd take almost a day at 2400 baud to transmit a photo taken with my iPhone X. I'm not exaggerating. If you weren't "connected" in those days, go ask someone who was around in the very early 90's and they'll tell you I'm not lying. I explain that only to say no one was sending images of themselves through this system. It couldn't be done in any easy way. It was faster to post a picture via the US mail than to send one of equal quality digitally then.