A second man, however, cuckolded Phil a few years later, and like the first, he was an alcoholic. “He would hound her,” Phil said, “and send copious amounts of e-mail, call her from wherever he was regardless of how distant. He had an attitude that ‘no one can tell him what to do, even if it is an affair.’” So Phil, despite his forgiving nature, did what many red-blooded men would have done in his place as a local Internet administrator. He deleted their electronic mail from the office system. “The second affair rekindled after the lover’s wife left him,” Phil says. Lawyers successfully pried Jayne and the man apart. “She has ‘fallen’ into love with other people on the Net,” Phil said, however, “and some have even taken the trouble to fly in to meet her.” Fortunately the moon and the stars and the hormones weren’t right. So where on the Net did Jayne hook up with these winners? Alt.sex.wanted? No, Phil said—rec.humor. And he actually feared rec.humor more than he did the plain, sex-oriented areas of the Net, because it might pave the way for a relationship based on more than carnal impulses. I asked, “As a local Net administrator, do you think that people on the Net play around more or less than does the general population?” “About the same,” Phil said. “But there are a lot more insecure personalities acting out an alternate personality on the net. This will often lead, I think, to more misunderstandings. Someone can appear to love you a lot, over e-mail, but cannot carry through in person.” And then Phil came up with another fascinating insight, which could also apply to some relationships on the Internet between single people. He observed that certain Netfolks really didn’t care that much about the men or women at the other end. Rather they used electronic mail as a diary. “Jayne cherished the e-mail she got from one of her lovers,” Phil said, “but in person he is a lying, cheating, and abusive drunk with a far more shallow agenda.” Phil and Jayne were doing what they could to repair the damage. The two had undergone marriage counseling. “Stop trying to think so much,” Phil was told. “This makes you appear to be walking on eggshells, making it harder for Jayne to be honest with you.” I hoped the counseling would work. As if her infidelity weren’t enough, she now cried because she might have contracted the virus that causes AIDS. “One of her lovers has slept around a lot and shot up drugs,” Phil said. “He hasn’t seen a doctor in ages because of his alcoholic tendencies, and on one occasion he has said he could have the HIV virus. I assured Jayne ... we will handle any result from the test one day at a time.” The same thought might apply to his life with Jayne. One day at a time. In the future, I hoped, she won’t be so secretive about the dots on her computer screen. Greg and Sue, an Update