When I was small and cute and innocent, I used to run around barefoot, making toys out of sticks. Way back then, I didn’t know you; you didn’t even exist.
In high school your name appeared here and there and I thought you were a magical beast that allowed my friend to download as many Keanu Reeves pictures as she pleased, at the speed of a retirement village Zimmer-frame race. Slow and steady wins the race, right…?
When I was about to graduate from high school, I would spend a whole class period trying to look up art history links from my teacher. You just took your time, smiling and winking like a creepy neighbour from over the fence.
I had faith in you Internet, so I opened an account to have a Yahoo email address. I would check with my $5 for 15 minute session at an internet café, but by the time I checked my inbox and found out nobody had emailed me because nobody knew about emailing, my time was up.
At university my boyfriend, Mr T, used Napster and I got stuck playing Age of Empires for 5 hours one night. I still didn’t really get any emails. Back then Internet, you would sound like a donkey on heat and nobody could ring us at the same time.
After uni, I still wasn’t that into you. Mr T thought you were the greatest thing (apart from me, of course). It wasn’t until I was exposed to the super speed of the South Korean broadband connection and the necessity of Skyping and IMming Mr T every day, all the way over in New Zealand.
Since then Internet, you’ve allowed me to: connect with friends on social media, laugh out loud at a piano playing cat on Youtube, research, keep up to date with the news, listen to all kinds of music, share photos, book holidays, answer complex questions, purchase tickets, look up recipes, watch TV, share my writing with the world and send and receive emails.
So this morning you will understand my despair when you stopped connecting half-way through my morning workout, Internet. I’m used to having you right there, at my fingertips. You are part of my daily routine and I was totally clueless when you said that you didn’t want to be with me. It turns out that it was not your fault, but an ISP fault.
The problem was I also got really frazzled, cursing and wondering how to survive without you and wondering how long you had disappeared from my life for. I felt so alone, how could you? But then Internet, you resurrected and I breathed a sigh of relief.
I’m really not that mad at you, promise. You can email me, ok?