Here’s the thing: I was on the internet before the internet was cool. I don’t say that to be all "yay, me!" but to set up the backstory, here. I clearly remember trying to describe the World Wide Web to my parents, and I remember getting this book for Christmas, in 94, as a directory of the WWW — with links to fansites like blahblah.edu/~smithj/toriamos.html or whatever. (Not a real site, that was just how it was done then.) Part of that whole thing was that I was a big participant in a BBS (Olohof!) and was just totally, totally fascinated by the concept of instant communication on a global level. I haven’t used the word sysop in years, but in 94, it was part of my vocabulary. It was the beginning of everything else for me, really, because my whole technology thing is that it connects people and ideas, and I was kind of on the leading edge of that concept. Not like Al Gore leading edge, but there were only a handful of us using the computer labs for things other than word processing. I kind of wish I’d taken pictures. Anyway.
In all that, I formed one really tight friendship, with an Aussie named T. It was my first internet friendship, and one that ended up being absolutely essential when JT died, and then Aton 18 months after him, because when you Cannot Sleep because of insanely violent dreams, the Aussies are always awake when the US isn’t. Over five years, our friendship evolved from the BBS to letters and phonecalls and mixed tapes and audio letters. And when Aton died, I needed something to sort of carry me through, so I set this goal of being in Australia, overlooking the 12 Apostles, on 4/6/99. There had been too much death and sadness, and life was short, and goddammit, I was going to Australia, which was a country I’d been fascinated with since I was a little girl and had a picture of the Sydney Opera House taped to my wall.
I saved and saved and saved, and sure enough, I made it, and my IRL meeting with T was one of the most intense things I’ve ever experienced. I stayed with him when I first arrived in Melbourne, for a few days, then traveled the Great Ocean Road, went to Sydney for a week or so, and then finished back up in Melbourne, with T. I was sickened to leave, I cried from Melbourne to Auckland, from Auckland to LAX, from LAX to home, and for a few days after. (Remembering the emotion makes me want to cry, even now, it was that intense.) I came back to the US, got in my car and drove to Phoenix, where I was constantly making plans to figure out how to go back. I moved back to Maine, and found a work visa exchange program, and had the application filled out and was halfway to the $400 I needed to send with it, when I met Dave.
Obviously, you know which path I took. And as my relationship with Dave grew and deepened, I felt conflicted about keeping T in my life. I last talked to him on Halloween of 2001, (6.5 years ago?!), as Dave and I were moving into our first apartment. I cried then, too, just because… I did.
So last night, talking to Jeanne about spiders, I brought up the massive fucking house spiders that existed in Australia, my first encounter with one being at T’s parents house, where we had gone to celebrate his birthday. It was motherfucking HUGE, hanging on the wall behind the television, and when it moved I just about died, right there. (I’m almost positive it was a Huntsman, after some googling…scroll down for a good scale picture) And while I was thinking about it, I realized that, oh. It’s his birthday, today. 4/4. It’s actually the one we joked about, then, because of his Irish/Aussie accent, the th- sound gets clipped to a t-, and back then, he was turning twenty-four, after a year of being twenty-tree, and how tirty-tree was going to be totally made fun of, when it came. Here it is, and I have no idea where he is. It’s weird.
I google once in a while, and today I did again, and the best link I can find is his sister and brother on facebook, but beyond that, there’s nothing. And neither his sister or brother have him listed as a friend (and it’s definitely his siblings — apart from the names and locations, the resemblance is striking) which just seems…. weird. It makes me wonder if he reached tirty-tree at all.
I think everyone has those crossroads moments, and wonders about the road not taken. My wondering about T isn’t about dissatisfaction with Dave, not at all, but just… a wondering. With T, there was never time to be annoyed by toilet seats or dishes or perpetual lateness, there was no end, just a long beginning and an intense middle and one last phone call, where I waved from the road I chose.
In so many ways, though, I thank him — T kept me going, kept me believing, made me a better person, open to recognizing when the right one came along. T was there through the darkest days of my life thus far, without fail, and I know I made the right choice. Had I sent in that $400, who knows where I’d be, but I may be writing wondering about the Dave path, and feeling just as sentimental, and as curious. I could send a message to his sister, but I truly worry that I’d hear that there was no tirty-tree, and for now, I like to imagine him as he was at 24, bandanna around his head, book in hand, leaned up against a pole, waiting for a train, smiling, but only a little bit. Happy birthday, T.
