Bloody Valentine

Ever since she was a kid, Marcia would get the giggles so bad she almost choked.  Her sense of humor was  quirky.     As a result, she was very lonely.  Years passed and the internet was developed, and  Marcia, still lonely, discovered chat rooms.  One day, she thought of a chat name so ridiculous that she burst into laughter.  Her fingers moved over the keyboard as she signed up, and in no time she had become Big Swedish Knockers.

An Instant Message popped up on her screen.  "So what's the difference between Swedish knockers and Norwegian or German knockers?" asked the Mustang.

"I don't know".  She shut the window but it opened again.

"So, Miss Big Knockers, what are you doing here?"

"Research", she typed.

"Master's thesis?"

"No, I'm writing a play".  She clicked the window shut again.

"What about your hubby?  Does he know you frequent chat rooms?"

"I'm not married".

"I see.  Confirmed maiden?"

"Sorry, I don't know what you mean".

"I'm asking you if you've ever been married".

Because she was such a recluse, the question intrigued Marcia far more than it should have.
Knockers admitted to being a blonde, slightly overweight church-goer.  A Lutheran.  Mustang wanted to know how old she was. He would never see fifty again, he said.  He had been widowed ten years.   His late wife wrote church skits for children, as did Marcia.  The Episcopal church.  Lutherans and Episcopalians were in full communion weren't they, he wondered.  Yes they are, Marcia informed him.  He was retired military.  He had investments.  A novel he had written was published.A couple of days later, the Mustang IM'd her again, and told her a friend living Up North in her area had invited him on a fishing trip.

And then, her screen began to fill with IM's.  It didn't matter what time of day or night she logged into chat.  There were long lines of men who wanted to chat with the gal with big knockers.

"How big are they?" they wanted to know.  "What's your bra size?"

At first she said 52DDD.     But something didn't seem right about the number she had plucked out of thin air.  She  researched a department store and revised her answer down to the largest commonly available size.  Even so, British Guy said, "Bloody hell, those are big".
 

 

The Rocket Guy read profiles and he was very choosy about who he IM'd.  He picked Marcia because she was a writer and publisher.  

Then there was the Professor.  How was she to know he was utterly mad?  There were clues, weren't there?  Did he have a fetish for blondes?  He told Scandinavian Gal that he couldn't hurt her online.

The Metaverse was a whole new ballgame.  There she met the Ladies Man.

The Swede said he loved her.  But he was drunk.  She thought that when he sobered up he wouldn't remember who she was.  She was wrong.  He wanted her to move into his house right away.  He built her a barn, and supplied it with horses and cows.  But the Swede had plans and the land didn't have enough prims.  So they moved.  And then they moved again.  She could have loved him, except for the fact that he drank.  Except for the Ladies Man.  Except for the fact that he lived across the sea.

There were plenty more men on the internet.  There were huge oceans of male companions, more plentiful than fish, as abundant as krill.  No need to be lonely again.  She would sieve them out through her net, and if a few escaped or were lost, what was the difference?



Her experiences made her feel like a Bloody Valentine.