Michael Sun

We start chatting, and he tells me his name is Tommy.

And then he asks, ASL, which, of course, means age, sex, location.

And obviously, I'm like, 17, male, Canada, even though I'm an 11-year-old boy living in northwest Sydney.

We're at each other on MSN, and we start talking for hours a day.

I'm talking hours since both of us are horny teens, or twins in my case, with absolutely nothing better to do.

He tells me his favorite band is Death Cab for Cutie, and I'm like, oh my god, same, even though the only thing on my iPod is Coldplay.

And then suddenly we fall out of contact.

I'm not sure how it happened, but it was devastating, pulverizing.

One day we were talking for hours, and the next we just...

My first real heartbreak, though certainly not my last online boyfriend.

Now, you might be wondering why I'm telling you this story, and it's not just because I love embarrassing myself on stage.

Tommy, if you're listening, please DM me.

I'm desperate.

No, I'm just kidding.

I'm telling you this story because I know you have a similar one, especially if you also grew up in the days of the early internet, right?

Maybe you also got your heart broken by some guy you'd never met, or maybe you were less dramatic than I was and just made a friend on Club Penguin.

or, God forbid, have a hotel.

What I'm saying is this.

We should return to the days of the early internet, the wild west of the internet, where everything felt a little looser, a little jankier, a little more spontaneous, where you, too, could meet the love of your life and get ghosted as an 11-year-old, where discovery still felt possible.

Here's the thing.