A Love Story

Since the first familiar sounds of AOL dial-up entered the chat, so to speak, I’ve always been drawn to the internet. Almost instantaneously, I became obsessed with chat rooms, talking to strangers (in “kids only” rooms for hours on end). I found “my people, or rather, anonymous individuals hiding behind screennames.

Mine was Heathybars, by the way. Well, actually, first it was Thalia85 because I was in 6th grade, the year in school everyone feels like the first person to discover Greek mythology. Thalia was the muse of comedy, DUH. I feel like everyone had their first prototype screen name before the one that would follow them through college and beyond.

And it has been, for better or worse. Nothing about me has changed. Behind MissHezah, I am still Heathybars neé Thalia85.

AOL unlocked something fundamental inside me, and it quickly followed me to Friendster, MySpace, The Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, Vine, Instagram, LinkedIn, and the list goes on, because if you can create a profile, I’m there.

In 1995, I fell in love with connecting with people and places, and my affection has grown ever since.

From the outset, my online obsession quickly spilled from divulging my a/s/l to randos in private messages to exchanging home addresses with other Beanie Baby collectors. Yes, I found myself in Beanie Baby chat/forums, trading coveted beanies with strangers across the country at 12 years old. I remember so clearly the day Happy the Hippo showed up in a padded yellow envelope, in awe of the whole transaction. Life seemed limitless.

And, it has been. Happy was just the beginning. I’ve bought, sold, and traded so much shit online. From clothes to carpets, concert tickets, toys, and tables, I’ve made the Internet my personal 24/7 bazaar. Craigslist, Poshmark, Marketplace, OfferUp, Depop, and even my secret finsta Instagram account, where I literally just buy, sell, and trade slow-fashion clothes with a small community of like-minded women with expensive taste. I’ve shown up to both the center and the far corners of the web to make transactions.

For me, it’s not just about the stuff. Don’t get me wrong, I love the stuff–– both the practical and material. But, as I said before, it’s about the connections I get to make along the way, no matter if it’s a quick handoff in a McDonald’s parking lot, drug-deal style, or another mom from North Hollywood spending an hour at my house using my bedroom as a dressing room, intensely debating if she wanted to buy my jeans. (She did. And texted me a week later to say how much she loved them.)

One woman and I kept buying clothes from each other until we realized we had mutual friends. In February, she came to my daughter’s birthday party with her son. We’re trying to plan a playdate with our kids so we can hang out, and I can give her a couple of pairs of hand-me-down shoes for her youngest.

Although I am a very staunch pragmatist and realist, I am a bit of a Pollyanna with people. I put my faith in others almost immediately. Maybe that’s why I’ve always been drawn to the magic of making contact through transactions over a dial-up, now broadband, connection.

So, you can imagine my feelings of betrayal, shock, and awe when I received this message through Facebook Marketplace.

Ok, let me back up.

About three years ago, I decided it was time to level up my blow-dry game with a Dyson hairdryer. But just because I wanted this doesn’t mean my bank account agreed, seeing as they retail for $400-500. So, I did what I do best––turned to the Internet.

I ended up meeting a strange man I found on OfferUp at a random Starbucks in Glendale, so I could hand him $200 in cash in exchange for a brand-new Dyson hairdryer. Score!

I used that hair dryer for years, all the while feeling smug at my good deal, until one day it stopped blowing hot air. It seemed fine, except it never got hot, which is the point. I looked up troubleshooting on the Dyson website, which led me to clean the filter. Nothing. I looked up an official Dyson repair shop, but the closest one was 45 minutes away, which led me to start cooking up a get-rich scheme to open one in East LA. Everyone has a Dyson, but no one has a place to take it. The money basically prints itself, right??

Anyway, I let the heatless dryer sit in my cabinet for months, buying a cheap substitute in its place. Truly a piece of shit compared to my Dyson.

Finally, I tried calling support, a long shot, to see if they’d repair or even replace it with their notoriously good customer service. Unfortunately, I never registered the appliance, and the tag had worn so much that I could no longer read the serial number. It was useless.

I decided to return to the depths of OfferUp to find a new hairdryer. After messaging a few people with fairly lowball offers, I got a response from a woman who agreed to $120 for a brand-new, in-the-box Dyson hair dryer. I told her I could come get it the next day since I needed to be in Santa Ana, and she was in Long Beach.

Communication felt a little one-sided, but some people just aren’t good on text!

I headed to Long Beach expecting to show up at one of the quaint little houses common to the area.

Yes, I handed $120 cash to a man and his son in a white in the parking lot of a McDonald's in Long Beach, in exchange for a sealed, new-in-the-box Dyson hair dryer. And yes, I did get back in my car and immediately enter the drive-thru line to order an ice cream, fries, and a Coke.

I love the Internet! <3 <3 <3

When I got home, I pulled out the old, broken dryer and took the requisite photos to post and release it back where I found it, online. I made sure to include that it was broken in the description and price it accordingly.

I was flooded with messages asking if I was available. And, of course, needed to point out that it was broken, as most people don’t read the descriptions. I received a lot of “never mind.”

And then, I received the message that my listing was A FAKE. “Without a doubt,” he said. My stomach dropped. My face went flush. I did indeed Google the YouTube videos to show me the differences between a good fake and the real deal.

Dear reader, my Dyson was, in fact, a fake. The cord was completely different! It was all so obvious.

I had been using a fake Dyson for three years, completely unbeknownst to my trusting self. I was distraught! Shaken! Shooketh, even! I’m not sure what came over me, but I immediately threw the old Dyson in the trash and took down the listing. I was so embarrassed. I just wanted the whole thing to go away.

How could I have been so duped?! Betrayed!

I went to check my new Dyson. It appeared to be real, based on a credible YouTube video, of course. I breathed a sigh of relief. Humanity still lives on the Internet, and in the parking lot of McDonald’s.

The Internet, and social media in particular, get a bad wrap–– and rightfully so. It’s responsible for some of the darkest corners of society. And yet, I’m ride or die. I believe it holds so much potential for good, bringing people and THINGS (at deep discounts and deals!) together, for better and sometimes for worse. Sometimes you connect with another woman, find a friend, and a new-to-you pair of jeans, or even a rare Beanie Baby. Less often, you end up with a fake Dyson for three years.

Overall, I still think my faith in the Internet's power was restored. My hair dries faster. My ability to be misled for years on end…is in the trash (until next time). And now I’m all the more interesting because now I, too, know the difference between a fake and a real Dyson hair dryer.