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Written by: Lea 6/3/2006 2:09:16 PM

He found me on the Internet. He was a neurologist, and he liked my smile and he wasn’t afraid of intelligent women and he never had a real love and I had one late in life, and he liked that because he knew I could, and it meant he might.

He looked like a guy I once had a crush on. He had a naughty smile, a bit of a beard, and a bum knee from playing too much tennis. And he was tall, with enough salt-and pepper hair, and white teeth and a look of self-worth, if not vanity.

And we both had cats and we both drove Acuras, and we both liked literary novels and Pinot Noir and osso buco and we listened to “Imus in the Morning,” and Bach cantatas. And we giggled and sounded goofy and we liked that too. And he wanted to know all about me, and he was punctual. And he whispered “I’m going to give you our first kiss right now. Turn around.”

And he programmed me into his phone. And he started calling me “honey.” I told him I’d clip his toenails, and he told me he’d mentor me and that we would sit by the fire and read and cuddle and enjoy the silence.

He asked if I preferred the bistro around the corner that served great lasagna, or the Japanese restaurant where we’d eat sushi with chopsticks and sit at the bar and sip hot sake. And sometimes he wanted to share a steak, even though he liked it medium and I preferred medium rare.

One frosty night as snow fell, he parked the car and savored the falling curtains of flakes in the streetlights and said, “Come closer to me” and it was “magical” and we decided we just might be soul mates.

The weekend he went to the Super bowl with his son he’d sneak down to the parking garage and phone me from his car for a couple of hours, and when he returned to his room his son would ask, “Where were you dad?” and he’d say “On the phone with my girlfriend,” and I liked that his son knew about me. And I watched the Super Bowl for the first time because I knew he was somewhere in the stands.

And when he came back he said he liked the side of the bed by the bathroom. Last thing at night, he’d ask me if I was comfortable and say, “Now I’ll kiss you to sleep in my arms.”

And he’d wake me up with “Good morning, honey,” and we’d brush our teeth and dress together and he’d drive to the hospital, and stop at the coffee shop and get a decaf latte and call me on the cell (and warn me when the dead zone by the cemetery was coming up and we’d be disconnected). And I’d drive off to step class chattering to him, and I’d put down the phone at the last minute with a smile.

And at night he’d sit in his soft chair in his wine cellar, the one big enough for me to sit next to him, and his two kittens, Sasha and Solo, romped in his lap and we’d talk for hours and tell more secrets. About his brother who had died an alcoholic, and about his ex-wife, and how he had never really loved her. And he said, “Don’t worry. I’ll never hurt you.”

I sent a message to his office that I “wanted a physical” and his receptionist didn’t know me yet, and beeped him, and he cracked up. And he asked me to send him romantic emails and I did.

And he called me five times a day, maybe more, and my son who was visiting said I sounded like a teenager. And he wanted to talk to my son, and I liked that.

And then he said “I know it’s fast, but I think I’m in love with you, and I said, “I know, it’s crazy, but I think I’m in love with you, too.”

Then he sent me an email with a heading “just beginning” that said “----i am kissing your sweet lips and don't plan to ever stop----other than for a gulp of air from time to time ----you are a wonderful lady with so much to offer-------i plan to give myself to you----hope it's enough---------------yours always…”

We daydreamed that we’d live in both our places, and get a third house with a view of the mountains. He told me I could decorate any way I wanted and he would buy me beautiful things.

And on Valentine’s Day, five weeks after he had found me on the Net he sent me a towering bouquet of flowers and a card with a dog paddling in water that said “This is our first Valentine’s Day and I’m over my depth in love with you.”

And the next day he said ours was a real connection, more so than any he had ever had, and certainly the fastest. And the chemistry was emotional, physical and intellectual. But he was going to visit his kids over President’s weekend, and he wanted to stop for while and concentrate on them.

And he didn’t call, and I missed him, and when he got back he said. “Look, it’s been a over a month now and I have dying patients and I walk around excited and I can’t even enter the examining room. I’m acting like a kid. I don’t think straight. You’re great. We’re great. But I think maybe it’s too much. We’re too far apart. How can it work?”

And I tried to understand, and I didn’t call him, and the Valentine hydrangeas and lilies faded and so did we, and I didn’t hear from him again until a week later when he emailed me, “Everything I said was from the heart…I’m sorry.”

I was sad but I sensed it would happen, that one of us would end it. Our relationship had been short, intense, and perfect. And virtual. I mean, I lived in Florida and he lived in Pennsylvania and neither of us wanted to move.

And besides, we had only talked. It could never have been as perfect ...if we had ever met.

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