Do you actually exist?

I sent Ian an e-mail this morning telling him he'd better contact me, either to tell me why he'd been absent for four days or to be honest and tell me he never wanted to hear from me again. I am sick of restless sleep, concern for his well-being, and suspicion of his true identity. I'm not going to e-mail him again, but I'd love to be able to mail him the following letter:


Dear Ian,

Why would you send me so many e-mails and spend so much time chatting with me only to disappear? Did we get too serious too fast? Are you afraid of commitment?

Do you actually exist, or did you create this online persona so that you could get to know me without ever having to meet me? Today I called the academic department you said you work in and asked to leave a message for you. The woman I talked to told me there was nobody by your name in the department. If you don't work in that department, do you actually look like the guy in the photo you put on your profile? Do you actually have a brother who's deaf or a history as a high school football player notorious for the "hippo dance"? Is anything that you told me true?

You do realize that I am so bewildered by this whole situation that I've started to laugh about it? Of course I'm hurt that I spent so much of my time and shared so much with you, but now I'm just amused by your willingness to waste so much of your time with someone you're never going to meet or talk to ever again?

If, for some reason, you decide you want to contact me again, you better have damn good proof that you've been comatose, held captive by FARC guerrillas, or something along those lines for the last week. Otherwise, you have no chance with me every again.

Sincerely,
Katie