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A L S O __T O D A Y Love is blind By Lisa Palac She met her sexual soul mate online -- but he wouldn't let her see what he looks like. Excerpt from "The Edge of the Bed" (04/27/98) T A B L E__T A L K Do virtual communities really exist or is this just another catchy buzz word? Join the discussion in the Digital Culture area of Table Talk - - - - - - - - - - R E C E N T L Y Do computers boost productivity? By Andrew Leonard According to one student of the numbers, the answer is: No way (04/24/98) You are what you type By Pamela LiCalzi O'Connell Why do people love taking personality tests online? (04/23/98) The little browser that could By Paul Bissex Move over, Microsoft and Netscape -- Opera is coming to town (04/23/98) Let's Get This Straight By Scott Rosenberg Free the Windows source code? (04/22/98) This is just between us, right? By Matthew DeBord Two new books get confused about online privacy (04/21/98) - - - - - - - - - - BROWSE THE 21ST FEATURE ARCHIVES - - - - - - - - - - _______

epistolary romance, digital style E-MAIL HAS CHANGED HOW WE START RELATIONSHIPS, HOW WE KEEP THEM GOING -- AND HOW WE WRECK THEM. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - BY JENN SHREVE | Chris and I had been seeing each other casually for about six months when we both showed up at the same bar with a group of mutual friends. Because we worked together, our relationship had been somewhat of a secret, but we'd always maintained a public friendship. That night, however, Chris (not his real name) decided to be a jerk. He pretended not to know me. I was furious. But I make a habit of avoiding nasty public confrontations. So when I got home, I headed straight to my computer and logged on, ready to tell him off with a precisely worded, dagger-to-the-heart e-mail. But before I could unleash the anger and hurt that had been welling up inside me all evening, a tell-tale bleep indicated that I had mail. The bastard had beaten me to the punch: He apologized, explained his actions and asked forgiveness. What could I do? Instead of the fiery diatribe I'd planned, I wrote back a simple note to say he'd hurt me, but all was forgiven. And that was that. Face-to-face we'd have ripped each other to emotional shreds, but the distance of e-mail -- in both time and space -- enabled us to assess our feelings and communicate them clearly and politely. In the long run, it drew us closer. I decided then and there that, as far as relationships went, e-mail was just great. Several years have passed since that exchange -- and with them, numerous romantic dramas played out not in the bedroom or over dinner or on a city street, but between two in boxes. I've been asked out and issued rejections over e-mail. I've carried on a long-distance relationship where e-mail was our choice method for staying in touch. I've flirted with acquaintances and spent hours upset when someone I cared about didn't promptly e-mail me back. Yes, I've even dabbled in e-mail sex. It has just seemed the way things are done in these digital times. We've all read, and perhaps rolled our eyes at, the articles about people who met their true love in a chat room! But lowly, everyday e-mail has transformed the day-to-day workings of romance in a more profound way than any glib news feature about "cyber-matchmaking" has yet mapped out. Today, a former lover's request to clarify my current feelings is sitting in my in box. I'm debating whether to answer it or call him up, which seems more appropriate for such a personal discussion. But who am I fooling? I can't do anything about it now. My e-mail server is out to lunch; hundreds of miles away, my ex-boyfriend sits frustratedly wondering why I'm not responding. The thought of picking up the phone leaves me uncomfortable, frightened. So many things have become easier to type than say; I wonder if that means I've become callous. I'm not so sure about my earlier judgment: E-mail doesn't seem so great after all. For every instance in which it brings people together, there's another where it keeps us at a cold distance. N E X T_P A G E .|. Getting together -- and getting dumped -- without leaving your in box