She was new to town, and lonely.
Alone in the apartment, she found attractive strangers, willing to talk, willing to listen.
There might have been some dancing around “real” identities but in the long run, no one involved cared much about actual names or addresses or employment. They were just all there together, looking for some kind of connection.
There were long conversations, there were short notes; there were shared stories; there were exchanges of information; there was laughter; there were sighs of recognition.
The relationships nurtured her, gave her companionship during those lonely times, until… she found herself stalking the source, waiting for Something To Happen.
She noticed that she couldn’t do anything without checking to see if there’d been a note, a word, a nod in her direction. She felt jittery when she didn’t know for sure about the next encounter; she became compulsive, double- and triple-checking to make sure that all her systems were “go.”
The relationship had taken over.
She knew it had to end when she found herself paying more attention to the words coming her way than to her son’s music recital. She thought about a twelve-step program but then decide that was too dramatic. With the love and support of her family, she’s taking action, reclaiming her life:
she’s breaking up with twitter.