Virtual Love - Tay Ninh Online Newspaper

The night was dreamy and hazy. The jumbled dreams, like a revolving lantern, swirled around within the fragrant, perfume-scented bed curtains. They were all scenes of tender affection, of our first meeting. He had just escaped the harsh northern winter, his bulky, heavy clothes and his lips chapped from the biting wind. The short-sleeved shirt I bought him last summer was tight against his broad chest. He stretched, breathing in the fresh air of the southern orchards, then opened his arms wide and embraced me.

Thank you, my love!

It had been a very long time since I'd had a date, ever since my ex-husband packed his bags and went back to his parents' house. My heart, like a tree left uncared for and unwatered, was dry and withered, but now it suddenly felt unusually vibrant. My ex-husband couldn't stand seeing me always dressed in elegant ao dai, wearing bright makeup, and riding my scooter to school.

He imagined the admiring glances of my male colleagues directed at my slender figure. For a time, I was banned from riding my motorbike to school. I went crazy and started riding my bicycle. The vice principal saw this and, out of pity, gave me a ride. After two days, my husband found out, blocked my way with a knife, and threatened to stab me, so I went back to riding my bicycle.

My husband worked as a real estate agent and earned a decent amount of money, but he was a heavy drinker. He'd get drunk and then come home to pick fights and verbally abuse his wife and children, to the point that my daughter, from the age of eight, knew to run into a corner of the house to hide from him when he came home drunk. After the divorce, I felt relieved, but only for a few months. Then came days of uncertainty and resentment. My daughter was also sad.

- Where is Dad drinking? Why isn't he home? He can scold me a little when he gets home!

I was annoyed and yelled at my child to go to school and stop talking so much. Even after sitting down at his desk, he was still talking back:

- You're so mean!

Having gotten married, I'm allergic to men, even though I still yearn for love many nights. Many men have tried to approach me, including the vice principal. I don't want anyone. We just chat in a friendly, brotherly way, and when they start flirting, I avoid them. Since social media came along, I've started using Facebook and Zalo, so I have many friends, plenty to confide in and relieve stress. I'm not exempt from virtual relationships either. It's strange how virtual relationships can make people yearn and anxiously wait for them. He was one of my online romantic partners, and I chose him. To be honest, that guy from the North wasn't anything special. I just liked the kind, honest face he displayed in his profile picture, and I was a little curious because of his self-introduction: "I'm a furnace worker. Born in the mining region." I'm a literature teacher, so I forgive myself for being bad at geography. Later, after we got to know each other, I teased him with a poem:

"The furnace worker is a furnace worker."

"Is it a gold mine, a silver mine, or a mine of love?"

- He's a coal miner, not a "womanizer" like you think!

Good heavens! He's so perceptive. He can even read my mind. Once, he took a picture at the end of a workday and sent it to me. A Cinderella-like figure, his face blackened with coal dust, wearing a safety helmet with a flashlight sticking out from under his forehead. That picture haunted me because of his dazzling white smile against the blackness of the coal dust. He confided that his family had been involved in coal mining for three generations. His two daughters were grown up, one in 12th grade and the other in 10th. His wife had been with a truck driver at the mine for three years. Economically , the driver might not be better off than him, but he was better off because he had a son with his ex-wife. And in the bedroom, he definitely outclassed him. I laughed at him talking about that. Once, I impulsively called him on video, just as he had finished showering. The towel was still draped over his shoulders, concealing his muscular chest. I gazed at him in a semi-nude state, seeing a strong, masculine body.

- His dad is still so handsome!

I giggled, teasing him. The towel accidentally fell off when he reached for his comb. I felt a rush of heat when I saw him shirtless.

- It'll still be perfectly usable twenty years from now! Please find me a suitable wife!

Yeah! Let's wait and see if I find a decent lady to introduce me to!

The next call was late at night, as I was getting ready for bed. I deliberately wore a low-cut, pale pink top. If I pretended to bend down a little, my still firm breasts would be visible. He widened his eyes and exclaimed:

You're really beautiful!

We didn't have much time together. He worked at the mine from morning till evening. I also had to teach classes, and then in the evening I prepared lesson plans for the next day. So, if we wanted to meet, it had to be from ten o'clock at night onwards. He was probably like me, eagerly waiting for our date every night. Infatuated like in our youth. I didn't even realize how much my appearance had changed. One morning, a girl stood there staring:

- Did Mom get her hair done again?

No! Mom just brushed her hair!

- This hairstyle is beautiful; it makes me look several years younger.

When they went to class, the older students exclaimed in admiration:

My aunt looks so young and beautiful these days!

I know that miracle was due to love, due to him. I wanted to rebel, to live authentically, not to hide behind the formal words and gestures of a teacher. That's what I thought, but it was difficult. Social media is both real and unreal, real and unreal. The geographical distance of thousands of miles only allows people to dream and torment themselves. That night, my daughter insisted on sleeping with me. This little girl is strange. She's about to become a kindergarten teacher, yet she still wants to sleep with me. She parted my hair, meticulously separating each strand.

- Mom's hair has some gray strands now!

Do you think your mother is still young? She's forty-two!

She giggled and patted my slender belly.

- You're still pretty! Get married! But don't marry that coal miner! He always looks so dirty.

I felt my pride wounded on his behalf.

- What about the coal miners? And how... did they know about that?

- Hehe! I was secretly looking on your computer, Mom. Sorry!

- It doesn't matter what profession a person has, as long as they are decent.

- But he... isn't a good match for Mom! A teacher marrying a coal miner. Haha! I guess Mom was just having an online romance for fun, right?

I'm annoyed.

- Your father is a real estate agent, always impeccably dressed, with a wallet full of money; your mother's female colleagues must be envious. But did he amount to anything?

The little child was sad, silent, and then fell asleep soundly.

I messaged him, saying that April 30th and International Labor Day fall on a Saturday and Sunday, so he'll have four days off. I asked him to come visit. I really want to see him. Because I don't see our relationship as just a game on the internet, I want to have him in person, to experience love with a man who works with his muscles but has an intelligent and sharp mind. A miner who stays up late discussing literature with a literature teacher. He commented on everything from Nguyen Hong's *Bỉ vỏ*, Vo Huy Tam's *Vùng mỏ* to Hemingway's *The Old Man and the Sea*, and Marquez's *Hundred Years of Solitude*. Once, he commented on a female character in a Russian novel:

- I didn't like Lev Tolstoy having Anna Karenina throw herself in front of a train to commit suicide. No matter how tragic life gets, there's always a way out.

I tossed and turned all night, thinking about how unfairly I had treated men since my divorce. I overcame my preconceived notions about not needing men by expressing my affection, and gradually, without realizing it, I fell in love with him.

So, a date was set for a sunny day at the end of April. "It's settled then. Anyone who changes their mind will get a good scolding!" He said he would go to Tay Ninh , visit his uncle in Tan Chau, and then borrow a motorbike to ride to the meeting place.

I agree. Of course, there's one more important thing, quite delicate. When we meet, I'll suggest it to him depending on the situation. If we sit at the cafe for a long time, I'll pretend to be tired, wanting some quiet time to talk, wanting to go to a nearby motel. I only dare to imagine that much, then I turn to choosing my clothes. Which outfit would be suitable for our first meeting? A dress would be very attractive, because I have long, beautiful legs. No! That's too strange! What kind of teacher dresses so provocatively? How about a dress, something more modest? I have a black dress that suits my fair skin very well. No! I'd look like a black crow. Ah! I'll wear a traditional Vietnamese dress. A traditional dress also flatters my figure a lot, and maybe he'll like it too. I decided to choose a lotus-pink traditional dress. The furnace worker will definitely be smitten, I'm sure. I'm confident in my beauty.

I anxiously awaited the date, mentally prepared to accept whatever might happen. I had already prepared a plan: I would persuade him to quit his job as a furnace worker and come live with me. With my relatively wide social connections, I could find him a suitable job, for example, as a security guard at a school or some other agency, with a decent salary. I envisioned a new, small, lovely home. Every morning, I would personally brew him a pot of tea, cook him a bowl of heart and kidney porridge or a bowl of beef pho. At the end of the teaching day, it would rain heavily, and I'd forgotten my raincoat. He would rush out to pick me up on his motorbike, his large umbrella struggling against the wind.

- My daughter, take care of yourself at home! Mom's money is in the cupboard, buy whatever you like to eat. When you go out with your friends, remember to drive slowly and wear a helmet. Aunt Tam will be sleeping over tonight. Mom is going to the city for some business.

I gave my daughter all sorts of advice, forgetting that she was already twenty years old and would be capable of being a homemaker if she married early. She didn't seem upset at all; instead, she smiled and put her arm around my shoulder.

Don't worry, Mom! Have a great day! Long live freedom!

Last night I waited and waited but he didn't call. Unable to wait any longer, I called him, but all I heard were tired beeping sounds. I texted him:

- Where are you?

The message with the question mark remained silent until the next morning. Only two days left until he flew to me. The plane tickets were booked; he even sent me a picture of his Vietjet flight ticket. There was no sudden reason for him to cancel our date. During my lunch break, I opened my computer and called him again. Oh my God! What's going on now? I took off my glasses, wiped them clean, and looked closely at the screen. Why was his profile picture completely black? I rushed to the computer, opened Facebook, and looked closely. That's right. Something bad had happened to his family. The black, mournful profile picture clearly indicated it. Who? His mother? His daughter? Or him? I called him directly, but all I got was the emotionless message, "The subscriber you are trying to reach is currently unavailable..."

The tumultuous days at the end of April passed quickly. It seems I've forgotten him, as if he had never existed in my life, even if it was just a virtual love.

PPQ

Source: https://baotayninh.vn/tinh-ao-a169677.html