An Unlikely Love Story
by Bill Shein
Generations of human beings have tried, largely without success, to identify the ingredients of lasting romantic love. Is it a shared sense of humor? Frequent trips to Mars and/or Venus? “Winning” your soul mate in a nationally broadcast reality-TV contest?
There is, however, one thing we do know: When you’re not looking for it, that’s when love sneaks up on you. And the feelings can be so powerful, the emotions so overwhelming, the transformation of your life so complete that you want to share the news by shouting it from every mountaintop. Or if mountain climbing is not your thing, then in some less dangerous way.
So while this space is not usually a venue for discussing personal matters, I’ve decided, with my editor’s permission, to throw caution and convention to the wind. Because my friends, something truly remarkable has happened: I have fallen in love with my pop-up blocker.
Talk about unexpected! One day I’m comfortably single, content with my work, a few good friends, and the fact that the video store clerk knows my account number by heart. And then, in a dizzying rush, I’m suddenly madly, deeply, foolishly in love.
It happened, I think, on a Tuesday: During a midday procrastination session, I was browsing the Web, reading some urgent celebrity news in one window and scanning an op-ed from the Times in another. On that particular day, the pop-up ads were annoyingly persistent – close one and three more appeared. Animated, flashing pitches for X-10 spy cameras, online casinos, cheap mortgages, and even, ironically, for pop-up blockers. As I clicked and clicked, I wondered, “Will this madness ever end?”
And suddenly, it did. Fate intervened – or was it Eros? – because I accidentally downloaded and installed the love of my life. There will be no romantic story to tell our kids; our eyes didn't meet across a crowded room. But it doesn’t matter: She’s here, she’s mine, and we’re in love.
Since we met, my online time has been tranquil and productive. The nascent carpal tunnel syndrome in my right index finger has eased, thanks to fewer window-closing mouse clicks. And I’m no longer startled by official-looking warnings, “Your computer may be infected! Click here to scan!” No, thank you, I will not click there to scan. You don't even exist in my world anymore – thanks to my cool new girlfriend.
My beloved pop-up blocker isn’t superficial. She doesn’t care if my socks match, where I put the toothpaste cap, or if I zip into town for milk on Sunday morning still wearing my fuzzy, footsie pajama jumpsuit with SpongeBob on the back. And, importantly, she never tells me – as several ex-girlfriends have – to “stop living in a fantasy world, freak.”
Like any couple, we have our spats. Sometimes she blocks pop-up windows that I want – like a help screen or a newsletter sign-up form. But I take it in stride, because she’s doing it to protect me. Generous to a fault, she asks little in return – only that I don’t uncheck the box on my “Internet Properties” screen that says, “Enable third-party browser extensions.” Don’t worry, my love. I won't.
Soon I’ll call my mother and break the news. I don’t know how she’ll take it. For many years, she had little to say about my love life. But not long ago she read something about the Internet in the AARP Bulletin and phoned with some unsolicited advice. “Please,” she begged, “don’t fall in love with some trampy, downloadable software. That kind of girl installs herself everywhere.”
I hope Mom accepts my relationship, because there’s nothing I can do about it now. And, quite frankly, there’s nothing I want to do about it. Because I love you, pop-up blocker. And I don’t care who knows it.
Courtesy of Bill Shein
Norm
!!
D:D
