Addicted 2 U
Author's note: This was the most challenging problem that I'd ever battled in high school. It really shed some... Show full author's note »
The MeetingThe black and gray diamond background of Noah’s Instant Message laced around my heart like barbed wire. He was the boy I had met at camp that summer. I had developed an impenetrable bond with him via instant message and email ever since I had returned home. But he had flaws. He drank every weekend, smoked just as often, and fought his family and friends. But he seemed so sweet. He said things I wanted to hear and caught my heart in a cradle of perfect obsession. Several weeks of non-stop communication went by. It was short-lived, however, because he sent me an email that cut our connection and crushed my heart. He told me that he did not want me anymore and I was not worth his time. My heart sank, and I grew bitter towards the boy, though it did not seem to matter to him what my emotions were.
Several days later, I got an Instant Message from an unknown screen name, “addicted2u9870.” I asked who it was, but the person would not say. The screen name did not attempt to contact me for about another week, which was long enough for me to forget about it. I had not blocked the screen name because I was naïve and trusting, as well as blindly curious. How could I have ever known what a terrible mistake it was?
After about a month of intermittent messaging from this unknown person messaging me, he finally revealed that he was Connor Meah, a friend of Noah’s, and had gotten my screen name when he was looking over Noah’s shoulder in the school library while Noah checked his email. Had I given it a second thought, I probably would have realized that Noah hadn’t even started school when the sender had begun messaging. But I accepted his excuse and began talking to him regularly. Because he lived far away and had no mutual friends with me, he became my confidante. Connor sent me pictures of himself: an attractive, blonde, tall, athletic, strong, and irresistible high school senior. He became my habit, my drug. My days began to consist of food, water, and Noah. I talked to him every day after school, neglecting my friends and schoolwork for his virtual love. We became close. I loved talking to him and hearing his advice and his charming words and his soothing aura. It struck me one day, several months after I’d begun conversing with him, that I did not have his cell phone number. I asked him why this was.
“Mary, I’m a father. I accidentally got my ex-girlfriend pregnant, and her parents don’t want me to talk to or see other girls, so I can’t give you my number.” My heart dropped.
“But I live forever away. What difference does it make? We are friends! They don’t have to know. They can’t have that kind of control over you!” This sort of banter went on, but his protests were strong all the while, so I finally gave up. It didn’t make sense to me, but maybe there was a more logical reason behind it. If only I knew.