I met her on line months before. Chatting had become our obsession as we slowly got to know each other. We had went through all the stages, first just being playful, then a little cyber-sex finally even exchanging phone numbers and having a phone sex a few times. It was different, getting to know some one in such a distant way. And now, we had decided to meet up.

I went to the airport where she would be flying in. I glancing at the arrival monitors as I walked in. It said her flight was delayed, I had gotten to the airport over an hour before her flight was scheduled to arrive, and now she was going to be even later. Should I go have a quick drink to help pass the time? No I wanted to have a perfectly clear mind and body when I met her.

This was crazy, I told myself; sure, we had chatted and talked but this was different. But then again I knew so much about her. She loved to tempt men and loved acting like a kind of slut. Who was I to complain about that. She loved to talk about shaving (and I don’t mean legs or pits), she also talked about how much she loved to go down on men and give long deep blow jobs.

Then came the E-mail her telling me she planned to be on my side of the country. Could we get together? I stared at the screen for a long while. Could we get together? It was the stuff men dream of on the Net, wasn’t it, it seems every guy is out here looking for a woman, but what do you do when you finally catch one?

As the second or two passed by, I wrote back and said I'd love to meet her.

Now here I was, waiting at the airport for a flight that was over an hour late. We had never exchanged photographs, so I had very little idea of what she looked like. She had told me what she'd be wearing, and I knew I could stand in the crowd and make an assessment of her looks before revealing myself. If she was a real dog, I could simply sneak away unobserved. But damn, I was too nice for that and would stick around regardless, I decided. Besides, we had revealed so much of ourselves to each other in correspondence that we had become friends. I couldn't leave a friend, even an ugly friend, stranded in an airport away from home.

After my wait, the plane was at the gate and passengers were arriving--some running joyfully into the arms of waiting loved ones, others trudging slowly, not even looking around.

Then I saw her.

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Love...the slowest form of suicide.