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treat yourself (or your mother) to another Like subscription and unsubscribe from “Leike.”
    I hope you have a nice Monday afternoon,
    Leo
    Eleven minutes later
    Re: Marlene
    Ooops! Now I’ve upset you. I didn’t mean to, really. I thought you’d be able to take it, but I was expecting too much. I’m going to get me to a nunnery. Night-night, Emmi P.S. Re: Point 3: I’ve been married. And I still am!

CHAPTER TWO
    One week later
    Subject: C.W.
    Crappy weather today, isn’t it?
    BW,
    E
    Three minutes later
    Re: C.W.
    1) Rain
    2) Snow
    3) Sleet
    Rgds,
    Leo
    Two minutes later
    Re: C.W.
    Are you still upset?
    Fifty seconds later
    Re: C.W.
    Never was.
    Thirty seconds later
    Re: C.W.
    Perhaps you don’t like chatting with married women?
    One minute later
    Re: C.W.
    Yes I do! But sometimes I wonder why married women enjoy chatting so much with complete strangers, like me.
    Forty seconds later
    Re: C.W.
    Am I not the only one in your in-box? How tiny a proportion of your Marlene therapy am I then?
    Fifty seconds later
    Re: C.W.
    Well done, Emmi, you’re slowly getting your touch back.
    Before, you came across as a little meek and timid, and almost lacking in motivation.
    Half an hour later
    Re: C.W.
    Dear Leo,
    In all seriousness I need to tell you how truly sorry I am for having sent you that seven-point email last Monday. I’ve gone back over it a few times since, and I have to admit it comes across as really vile out of context. The problem is that you have no idea what I’m like when I say things like that. If we were face-to-face, you couldn’t possibly be angry with me. (At least, that’s what I imagine.) And take it from me, I’m anything but frustrated. My disappointment in men is kept in check by the natural limitations of men themselves. Meaning that of course some men are a bit limited. But I’ve been lucky. I’m very happy in that department. My cynicism is more playful than resentful; it doesn’t come from some desire to settle scores.
    That aside, I’m very touched that you’ve told me about Marlene. (Even though I now realize that you haven’t told me anything about her at all. What kind of a woman is/was she? What does she look like? What’s her shoe size? What kind of shoes does she wear?)
    One hour later
    Re: C.W.
    Dear Emmi,
    Please don’t be angry with me, but I’m in no mood to tell you about Marlene’s taste in shoes. She’d normally go barefoot on the beach, that’s about all I’m prepared to say. I’ve got to sign off now, I’m expecting someone.
    Have a nice day,
    Leo
    Three days later
    Subject: Crisis
    Dear Leo,
    I had resolved to wait for another email from you before I wrote one myself. I may not have studied language psychology, but a couple of things are chiming in my mind.
    1) Between the lines I’ve given away that I’m not only married, but happily married to boot.
    2) You reacted to this news with possibly your least enthusiastic response since our virtual togetherness began so auspiciously more than a year ago. And then you don’t email me again at all. Have you lost interest in me? Have you lost interest because I’m already spoken for? And could it be that you’ve lost interest because I’m happily spoken for? If that’s the case, you could at least be man enough to tell me.
    Best wishes,
    Emmi
    The next day
    Subject: (no subject)
    LEO?
    The next day
    Subject: (no subject)
    LEEEEEOOOOO! ARE YOU THE-ERE???????
    The next day
    Subject: (no subject)
    Asshole!
    Two days later
    Subject: A lovely message from Emmi
    Hello Emmi!
    I come home after an exhausting conference in Bucharest, a rather gloomy city not exactly bursting with attractions, in what they perversely refer to there as springtime (snowstorms, frosts). I switch on my computer, open the in-box and, among the mountain of messages ranging from the superfluous to the pathetic from 500 merciless