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One day in July, I perused all the profiles of people I matched on an on-line dating service. I saw this profile of someone who had become disillusioned with his religion. I felt as if I was called to reach out to him. I rarely take that first step. I usually waited for people to approach me first.

Tim and I corresponded at first about religion, and then he sent me links to websites for writing and even to his blog. I quickly found out we originally came from the same area in Brooklyn, NY. We both attended Immaculate Heart of Mary Church at one time. We even shared the same heritage.

After a short time, I couldn't believe he said I inspired him to write. He wrote "To My Love," on his emails and signed them "With Love, Tim." We talked more about our past relationships. Once he sent me the link to the story, he wrote that he said I inspired him to write it and asked me to edit it. It was called "The Girl in The Window", and I found it to be so beautiful and romantic. I was very aroused when I read that he wanted "to touch me all over." I had not felt this way in a long time. I told him I wanted to "touch him back." I'd been given cards, flowers and gifts before, but never this precious gift that only a writer can give, the gift of his own writing.

We exchanged photos, addresses and phone numbers, and he told me that he loved me online and over the phone. I fell very deeply in love with him, and he filled me with a passion for life I had never felt before. A problem which arose that caused us not to meet face-to-face at first was that my brothers did not approve of his steamy romance stories. My daughter who attends a christian college emailed me that she was upset and said that some of Tim's links to his other stories were "porno." I told her that he said that I had caused him to change and that this story was not pornographic, but was romantic. Next, my brothers refused to meet him with me.

Tim said, "give it a little time."

After my brothers wouldn't meet him because of his writing, I spoke with Tim three times on the phone about these problems. After getting to know him and reading his stories, I came to realize that his hot stories were simply the result of his having been an ordinary sailor.

I called him and emailed him that "I would really like to meet him anyway whether with a friend or alone." We wrote to each other numerous times every day, and he told me, "Love you, Babe."

I loved it when we spoke to each other intimately.

We all have baggage from our past

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