The Internet has increased exponentially in size and complexity over the last 10 years, and back in 1999 it was already providing online users with an embarrassment of riches in terms of information exchange, nascent technologies and ever-evolving formats for websites, and the potential to influence lives via communications with people halfway around the globe, at the speed of an e-mail or an IM, was already in place.
Ten years ago in 1999, I was living and working in my home town of Chorley, in the North West of England. At the time, I was studying a TESL course during the evenings and weekends, at the University of Central Lancashire in Preston. At that time, I had owned my own house for 16 years and had worked for a well-established company for almost 18 years, but I was looking to expand my horizons and was always interested in continuing education, hence the university course.
A huge boon to learning was, and obviously still is, having access to a computer, so that’s when I bought my first desktop PC; a Compaq Presario. I was on dial-up, then, which seems so primitive compared to today’s broadband and wireless networks. I was exposed to the Internet and all it had to offer back then, and I would frequently set some time aside for myself, at the end of a night’s study, to surf the web and revel in the amount of information readily available. There were science sites to discover, news, forums, even dating sites, all of which I found fascinating! I actually entered into a number of pen pal correspondences with people from around the world on some of these sites; people from as far away as Argentina, Brazil, Australia, and the United States. I was intrigued by the thought that all these people were just an e-mail away, and at the ease with which I could communicate with fellow human beings in this age of access.
Eventually, I came across a dating site called One & Only, which back then looked nothing like it does now and was far less sophisticated than its current iteration. Still, it had the capacity to connect people (for a fee) and I decided to add my profile and picture to see where this would take me. It was all new technology to me and, being the technophile that I am, I wanted to be part of it.
Not long after joining the network, I saw a profile of another member and liked the way it was written, so I eventually contacted El Franco, who lived in Canada and who also liked the tone of my reply to his ad. And so it was that (being fully aware of the distances involved) we agreed to become pen pals.
Aided by our shared sense of humour, the long-distance online relationship evolved over time to a point where we decided we should meet in person. That’s when El Franco visited me in the U.K. and we hit it off immediately. After having written—between the two of us, literally hundreds—of e-mails to each other and having talked on the phone many times at that point, I would say it was one of the strangest and most surreal moments in my life, actually meeting El Franco in person. It was like meeting a best friend for the first time, whose history and life story I knew so well.
Originally, we never thought we’d ever meet face-to-face, so we had been completely open and honest with each other in all of our correspondence. We confided many hopes and aspirations, as well as very personal thoughts about each other and our experiences. So it was a very strange, but not unpleasant, meeting indeed.
However, all good things must come to an end, and El Franco eventually returned to Canada after spending just over three weeks in my hometown. Once he arrived back in Ottawa, we quickly settled back into our respective routines, but found that we couldn’t stop thinking of each other and soon became depressed at the thought of being separated by such distances, and not knowing when we’d meet again.
It was then that, after four weeks or so, I bought tickets for a two-week reciprocal visit to his home in Ottawa, and we picked up the relationship from where we’d left it. During this time, we enjoyed each other’s company tremendously and I got to know all his friends, even visiting his family in Montreal.
Once again, though, the time came for one of us to leave and at the end of the visit we drove to Mirabel airport in Montreal; this was where I’d landed when I’d arrived in Canada, and where my departing flight was due to take off later that evening on my last day in Canada.
El Franco and I were pretty fed up that day, not knowing when we’d see each other again and not even knowing if a long-distance relationship was going to work. It was then that we started to discuss (right there in the waiting lounge with all my luggage, prior to checking in) the option of my staying in Canada and of our trying to make a life together.
It was all pretty scary stuff, but that night we both decided to take a chance and ended up driving back to Ottawa as my plane took off without me. Needless to say, we were both silent on the drive back to Ottawa, not knowing for sure if we were doing the right thing. It was such a huge decision to have made.
The following day I had to inform my employer of my resignation and (hardest of all!) my family of my intent to stay in Canada. Things were quite stressful for a while, not only because I’d made the decision not to return home (which greatly upset them), but also because my family then had to take on the burden of selling my house on my behalf.
And so after going through a lengthy and stressful immigration, and eventual citizenship process, and after getting married in 2005 (which is when Canada made it legal for same-sex couples to do so), here I am writing this blog entry on the 10th anniversary of clicking the Send button for that very first e-mail written on February 8, 1999.
That all seems so long ago, now.
I didn’t know what I was getting into when I sent that e-mail 10 years ago today—but it was well worth it and I’m glad I did it. I often wonder what turns my life would’ve taken, had I hesitated and not made that one click.