Diary of a Single Woman

Part 1

We hear a lot these days about the growing power of the internet. Is it a passing fascination, or perhaps something

humanity can't live without? A small handful of my friends praise this growing

fascination, but I wasn't convinced until the very end. How can anyone possibly

find their soulmate or friends online? I can't imagine it.

Thanks to my younger sister's encouragement, the internet came to our house, and thanks to numerous

persuasions from my friends, I decided to do some digging online and make friends.

I also often hear that I should settle down, easy to say, but where should I look for the right guy? I've come up with the idea of ​​finding a "boy" online. I'm anonymous

online , and no one will know it's really me.

I'm computer literate

, and day by day, hour by hour, I was getting better at navigating the internet.

After setting up my email account,

it would definitely come in handy for exchanging emails with friends, and maybe even with a handsome stranger.

After a while, I discovered the chat room, and step by step, I found myself in the "Randka" room. I don't

know why, but I just happened to like it. I logged in as Kiki21. Since childhood, my parents and friends

have called me that—a diminutive of Katarzyna. It has little in common, but it stuck.

I was hesitant to make the first move. I was slowly scrolling through the list of people in the chat when

"Goracy Arus" popped up in front of me. His nickname immediately put me off. I wasn't looking for

a fleeting friendship, but for the love I'd never truly experienced. I started a conversation

with "Hot Arus" and was skipping through it as quickly as I'd started. "What the hell is cyber sex?"

Never mind, I then began searching for the right candidate on my own.

There were currently 250 people in the chat, and that number was constantly growing. At the very end, I found someone

I called "Romantic Tomek." Isn't there a woman who doesn't love romantics,

but do they really exist? I decided to find out. I started the conversation and,

to my surprise, it went perfectly. My candidate was: Tomasz,

24, from the same city as me, a hopeless romantic who loves walks

and candlelight dinners. After an hour's conversation, I gave him my email address; I was lucky

I had set up an email account, and that was the end of our chat. I was pleased with the

time spent on the so-called internet chat.

After a few more days, I logged back online, checked my email, and saw

two messages from my virtual friend. He asked how I was doing and what I was up to.

I clicked the reply button

: "Dear Tomasz, I'm fine. I haven't had access to a computer for the past

few days. I'm studying, of course, and I also help my parents run the store."

Over the next week, we exchanged emails, and I started to like it more and more.

Tomasz briefly suggested we meet up. I hesitated because I still wasn't convinced by the

"power" of the internet, but after a while, I agreed. I also sent him

a picture of myself, which my younger sister had taken. He replied that he liked me and that he liked blondes.

Although I hadn't seen his picture, I could picture him very well. A tall, handsome

brunette with beautiful almond eyes. Well, now I see how addictive this game can be.

On the day of the meeting, Tomasz called me to let me know he might be 15 minutes late.

I put on my favorite red skirt and white blouse, borrowed my sister's red handbag, and

went to the agreed-upon meeting place. I waited outside the pub for my "Romantic Tomasz" to arrive.

I was a bit nervous and even wanted to give up on it all. Such an old man, playing

such a game, but unfortunately, it was too late to "escape." I felt his touch on my shoulder.

"Kasia, is that you?" I slowly brushed back my hair, turned around, and smiled faintly. What I saw

knocked me off my feet. In front of me stood a man who might have been 24, but was 170 cm tall, wore

thick glasses, had a few spots on his face, and emphasized the letter "r" when he spoke. I nodded, and he

leaned over me, kissed me on the cheek, and handed me some hideous wildflowers,

probably from his

garden, because I'd never seen them in a flower shop before. I wanted to get out of there as

quickly as possible, preferably by screaming. Tomasz invited me in, the waitress showed us a table, and

handed us the menu. My candidate for the perfect boyfriend began to engage in conversation—

you could actually call it a monologue, since I was the silent minority. I listened to his bullshit with the utmost patience

, but I was slowly getting tired of it, because how much can you

listen to about running a business, computers, and cars? I slowly finished my second drink, and

Tomasz launched into another conversation about what a difficult childhood he had, how he couldn't have what he wanted. I smiled sweetly. I'm not the type to tell him I didn't care and leave, but I had to do something about it, but I didn't know what else to do. Another hour passed,

and I started playing with the pasta on my plate. Yes, I know, I know, you shouldn't play with your food.

After another 20 minutes, I had to do something about it. I tipped the waitress, showing Tomasz

that we could skip this meal together. However, he didn't notice and still didn't stop talking.

The smile slowly faded from my face. I apologized to Tomasz and went to the restroom.

I stood in front of the mirror and looked at my reflection. How pathetic, I thought. I washed my hands,

then saw a small open window leading outside. My only chance of escape,

I thought. No, don't even think that—it would be too cruel and immoral, what would he think?

I looked in the mirror again, grabbed my purse, and ran to the window. I couldn't stand

his incessant chatter for another minute, so I decided to do it. I jumped a little, caught myself, and with a quick leap,

escaped this hell. It didn't matter that I had slightly torn

my favorite skirt when I fell onto the garbage bags; that was the least important thing at the moment. I ran to the nearest

taxi rank, got into the last one, gave the address, and we set off. Only then could I breathe a sigh of relief. However, the search for a suitable candidate was proving a fiasco, including the online

search —that diabolical device!