Dagmaster

Kris was trying out the whole online dating thing. She set up a profile on The Onion (a good pre-screening to eliminate all those with no sense of humor) and was sifting through her emails daily.
I was also single at the time and although I would love to say she had to put a knife to my neck and twist my arm, it wasn't quite so. I was curious and willing to try. What harm can it be. It's anonymous, it's online, I don't even have to talk to anyone if I don't want to.
So I set up a profile, plastered my photo onto it, and sifted through emails daily as well. Exchanged a few emails, but never liked anyone enough to meet in person. I mean, it was difficult to choose between a guy with a full sleeve tattoo, a doctor who likes hours of sensuous kissing and soft whispering (I would have to smack him with a rolling pin to get away from me) or a pilot who'd like to have a pretty maiden in every harbor.... It got old pretty quick and my ad was soon abandoned and forgotten. Besides, my boomerang boyfriend started showing up every weekend again and things were moving rapidly towards re-bonding, and eventually, months later, moving in together.
We had a perfect little house. I played the homemaker. An emancipated homemaker. I painted walls, chopped some trees down with a chainsaw, hauled many rocks away from the garden that was abandoned for ten years, that sort of a thing.
The garden. My garden. Inch by inch I turned it from a dump to a nice piece of landscape. I put some primroses out by the everything-invading forsythia, along with narcisses and snow whites to have a little spring garden. Then I put in some shrubs, a double flowering japanese rose, trimmed rose bushes that were already in there, sowed in seeds of marygolds, tossed some violets that invaded every empty space and crevice like a horde of Attila's Huns...
That particular morning, I was raking the devil out of periwinkles. They were covering most of the backyard and I wanted to get rid of them, put d0wn a nice lawn on which I could put a blanket and read in the sun. Phone call. E was calling from work.

- Hey, how are you?

- Good good, I'm raking the lawn and and I want to...

- Is everything okay?

- Uhhhh, yeah.

- Have you seen the Boston Globe today?

- No.

- Check out the online edition, Dagmaster.

Dag..what? Wait, how did he...? I mean that was my.... did we ever talk about....where the hell is this coming from....?.... I run to the computer, rake in hand, splattering mud all over and load up the Boston globe. Scroll down, pearls of cold sweat on my forehead in anticipation of some disaster. International news...nothing outrageous, Domestic....whatever.....Sports...not even looking....Personals........ Wham! There I am, my photo and all, on the front page of the bloody Boston Globe. "Dagmaster.....About me: I am the best Slovak this vicinity has to offer, if perhaps the only one...." I fold my head on the table and beat it against the teak wood that I polished that morning a few times. Why did I ever post a profile up? Why did I not delete it as soon as I was bored of it? Why did nobody ask me if I agree to have it plastered on a front page of newspaper that everybody in this whole damn town reads...why ,why, why?
That day was not a pleasant day. I had to drive to school to first stop by at the Registrar's Office, and then teach my International Relations class. At the registrar's, the student at the desk grinned and asked: "So, you're a Taurus?"
Basomazapat azandelat, just give me my stupid paper and don't meddle into what's none of your business. Grrrrrrr.
I asked my students to read international news section of the Globe at the very first class. It's easy, I told them. You just go online and subscribe to receive international news via email. Or at least browse through the headlines online before class. Apparently they were good students. For they all did peruse the online edition of the Globe that day.
"Miss Kusa, can we go through the news from the Boston Globe now?"...chuckle... "You are from Slovakia, professor? What is the number of Slovaks in this vicinity?"...hee hee hee, ho ho ho... "Miss Kusa, have you found anyone yet?".....
Little bastards. I need to be much more stern with these wisecrackers. No more Mr. Niceguy. No more jokes, no more games, no more debate teams. I've had it with you, you lousy little shitheads....
So I had to teach a bunch of cackling gremlins, but somehow I survived to the end, with a bit of self-deprecating humor and a lot of feigned composure.
I got home completely drained. Boomerang boy was, however, beaming with energy and good humour. At least he wasn't pissed off. He liked the ad. He said it said the right things in the music and interests department. He would have called me himself if I wasn't already living in his house. Wiseass. Well, musn't grumble. The Best Slovak this vicinity has to offer, was taken out to a nice dinner. And learned an invaluable lesson about anonymity and safety of personal data out there in the online universe.