by Janet Trakin.

I’m a self-defined lesbian, but what lesbian isn’t tempted by a cute guy? I recently posted my profile and picture on My Space.com, that intergenerational melting pot of cyberbabies and misfits. Where most people wrote, Angelina Jolie, Dalai Lama, Hillary Clinton and other assorted luminaries under the question, “Whom would you most like to meet?”, I wrote, “A woman who understands me on all levels.” Amazingly so, my inbox was then inundated by a barrage of e-mails from male geeks from all around the world.
Among the photo of a tribal chief from Ghana, an e-mail of a faceless British artist, and a hate-filled, homophobic abusive e-mail from a Yugoslavian 16-year old punk, appeared the picture of Tom Smith. He had dark hair just messy enough not to be neat, dark brooding eyes and a sweet smile. He appeared to have a melancholy spirit underneath the smile, and his broad shoulders hinted of strength and masculinity–the perfect combination of the hopeless romantic and macho man…the poet and football player…Jung’s anima and animas. His e-mail contained life-weary original musings on love, a desire to settle down, and a propensity to do “anything for love.” I checked him out.
Tom’s profile appeared to be hastily put together just so that he could answer ads. Whereas many people on My Space go to great lengths to create an elaborate, impressive web site, Tom’s remained blank, and only “United States” appeared under his name and age. But the photo—ooh the photo. With no hesitation, I returned his e-mail.
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