Ignore it and maybe it will go away. In large part that seems to be the attitude of our society toward the reality of breast cancer. Sure, there are 5K races to support research, and pink ribbons to be pinned on supporter's lapels, but when it comes to the cold, hard reality of mastectomies, radiation, chemotherapy and often death, there are few places the American public comes face-to-face with the killer. That is, unless they know one of the one in nine women who will develop the disease in her lifetime. And though that's not unlikely, even then many remain unaware of the ravages of the disease.A billboard campaign targeted at changing that has been the subject of controversy in the last few weeks. The three posters, designed to look like a Cosmopolitan magazine cover, a Victoria's Secret catalogue and a Calvin Klein perfume ad, feature topless models striking the usual come-hither pose -- but with a twist. In place of voluptuous breasts the models sport scars. Mastectomy scars. The posters were scheduled to go up in 57 bus shelters in San Francisco and in surrounding Contra Costa, Santa Clara and Napa counties. But in that liberal, anything-goes City By the Bay someone suddenly grew a prudish conscience and decided citizens' eyes needed to be shielded from the realities of breast cancer. Outdoor Systems, the company that contracts with San Francisco for exclusive rights to advertise on city bus shelters, backed out of donating space for the ads after seeing the final product. Ironically, the posters did go up in more conservative parts of the Bay Area, though fewer than 20 currently remain on display. (Most were taken down due to citizen's complaints, though the total number of upset citizens who were able to topple the posters in Santa Clara County was said to be four.)Lew Lillian, head of Outdoor Systems, made the decision to keep the ads out of San Franciscans' sight."To see a woman's terribly, terribly scarred body -- it's just not for public consumption on the streets of San Francisco...where children and others can be traumatized," Lillian told the San Francisco Examiner. "It's too shocking, too upsetting, too provocative."Shocking? Outrageous? Andrea Martin hopes so. She underwent mastectomies in 1989 and 1991 and it's her chest that's on display in the ads -- superimposed on models' bodies. Martin, 53, is director of The Breast Cancer Fund (www.breastcancerfund.org), a San Francisco-based nonprofit organization dedicated to putting an end to the breast cancer epidemic through education and funding for research. The ads are part of the organization's "Obsessed with Breasts" campaign intended to raise public awareness about the disease. The posters (all work on which was done pro bono) were designed to change the way people think about breast cancer and to challenge society's obsession with the female breast as an object. But the ads have met with resistance even within the breast cancer community. The American Cancer Society (www.cancer.org) has come out against them, according to Martin, citing concern that the images might upset and frighten women away from getting mammograms or seeing a doctor. However, while Martin has her own reservations about what she calls "one size fits all" prescriptions for mammograms, the screening exam was not the focus of the campaign. "We need to think about exposure to toxins, exercise and diet and the things we know can help prevent the disease while we're waiting for scientific answers," Martin says. "There are so many things women need to do to educate themselves about this disease besides mammograms and self exams." Martin does note that until there are other adequate screening methods women should use those currently available after taking into account their personal and family medical histories.Educating people about the disease and getting them involved with raising funds for research into environmental causes of the disease are two of the main goals of the campaign. The Breast Cancer Fund's site offers a call to action for people to get involved. Their new book, "Pathways to Prevention: Eight Practical Steps -- From the Personal to the Political -- Toward Reducing the Risk of Breast Cancer" offers more ways to get engaged. Regardless of the fact that their ads were pulled, the posters have succeeded in bringing attention to the subject. Since they were introduced in late January, traffic on the Fund's Web site has increased. During the first week of February they had 8,000 pageviews, far exceeding normal numbers (and more people visited the Obsessed with Breasts pages than the homepage). They've heard from men and women around the world. Media calls have poured in from across the globe, from the BBC to Elle magazine. "I think freedom of expression has been abridged," says Martin of the censorship the ads received. "The people making the decisions are substituting personal sensibilities for the entire community. The community has every right to see the ads." Community response to the campaign has been overwhelmingly supportive and Martin is optimistic that the positive public opinion will help turn the campaign around."Our sincere hope is that the bus shelter organizations will reconsider their decision based on the obvious strength of public opinion in favor of the campaign. In addition, we hope that the increased awareness about the campaign will bring forward other possible sponsors for the ad in places that include women's magazines and other consumer publications."And it seems that new life may be breathed into the campaign. According to a February 8 article in the San Francisco Examiner, another billboard company, Eller Media, announced it will display the ads free of charge on a number of billboards in the city. However, all their boards are currently rented through September, so when that may happen remains unclear.Outdoor Systems' Lillian says he will not bow to pressure just because another company plans to display the ads. He says that since the space to display the posters was donated he feels no need to do so. But he may have no choice. The Breast Cancer Fund has been in discussion with the American Civil Liberties Union to determine if in fact First Amendment rights have been violated. In a letter to San Francisco's Board of Supervisors, Alan Schlosser, managing attorney for the local office of the ACLU, wrote: "If the City is going to allow bus shelters to be opened up to speech activity, it cannot allow the spaces to become an arena for censorship." It remains to be seen whether or not legal action will be taken. On February 7, Supervisor Mark Leno introduced a resolution commending Martin and The Breast Cancer Fund for their work. While it does not condemn Outdoor Systems, if the resolution is passed it will put the city on record supporting the Obsessed with Breasts campaign.So there's new hope that more people will see the photos and hopefully learn more about the disease, protecting themselves and what needs to be done to save the lives of hundreds of thousands of women in the future. "These ads have got the power of truth," Martin says. "They may cause you to look away or be stopped in your tracks, but when you start thinking about them you have to admit to the truth of this. What is wrong with a society that can objectify women and their bodies and not look at the truth of breast cancer?" To learn more about breast cancer and the Obsessed with Breasts campaign and to order publications and donate to the cause, visit http://www.breastcancerfund.org/ or call 1-800-487-0492.

The slick, high-tech mediums launching us into the new millenium have brought with them some old, legal albatrosses, not the least of which is the issue of copyright infringement. In a case of the ever-cheapening of the written word, discussion rages over who owns a piece of work after it's been published, and how ownership is determined when that piece is reprinted in another format, say online or in a database. While the scenario of the big, bad publisher taking rights -- and thus money -- from the poor, starving writer is not exactly new, the Web and other modes of electronic publishing have served as lightning rods for debate on the issue. They've established a dichotomy that makes it trickier than ever for freelance writers to make a decent living. While the potential audience for a writer's work has grown exponentially with the advent of these new mediums, the ability to resell work in different markets -- the bread and butter of freelance life -- is beginning to disappear as the entire world has theoretically melded into one huge market out in the ether. And writer's paychecks have shrunk in kind, causing despair among many in the profession.The latest chapter in this murky debate comes in the form of a ruling in Tasini et al. v. New York Times Co., a six-year-old legal battle. The case involves Jonathan Tasini, president of the National Writer's Union (NWU), and a handful of other freelance writers, who sued the New York Times Co., Newsday Inc., Time Inc. Magazine Co., University Microfilms International and Mead Data Central Corp., former owner of the Lexis-Nexis databases, for using their work without permission or payment.On September 24, 1999, the 2nd U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals overturned an earlier ruling that had been in favor of the publishers and said that, in lieu of a contract, ownership of written material reverts to the author after initial publication and all royalties from electronic database reprints should be directed to them. Though the case dealt only with databases, it's likely that Web content will be covered under the same precedent."Thanks to their own greed and arrogance, the media industry faces the grim reality of a tidal wave of lawsuits that will boggle their minds," Tasini exulted after the verdict. "Every single data provider now is at risk. We could go into court tomorrow if we wanted and ask to shut down every database," he told (ital)The New York Times(ital).Such overzealous claims are unlikely to come to fruition."The idea that there's a pot of gold for freelancers who wrote a few stories for (ital)The New York Times(ital) five years ago, forget about it," says David Wallis, a frequent contributor to (ital)The Times(ital) and (ital)The Washington Post(ital).First off, in recent years it's become common practice for many publishers, including those named in the suit, to require writers to sign contracts allowing electronic republication of their work. Secondly, in many cases the statute of limitations for copyright infringement has passed. And besides, not everyone can afford to be a martyr for the cause and bite the hand that feeds them; some just want to pay the rent. Nonetheless, the case does lay some substantial groundwork. "It's an important decision in taking back writer's rights and maybe not being dictated to so much," says Wallis, who, while no fan of the NWU, commends Tasini for going forward with the case. Wallis says he's worried, however, that the decision could create a backlash where publishers force writers to agree to stringent contracts and give up all rights to their work, everywhere, for all time. Such concerns aren't unfounded."While this decision may give writers more bargaining clout when it comes to negotiating with publishers, my feeling is publishers will react by making explicit agreements that authors are transferring all copyrights to a given work to the publisher," says Jeffrey Reyna, an attorney specializing in Internet law at Hancock, Rothert and Bunshoft in San Francisco. So the work could end up on Lexis-Nexis, a Web site, and even as-yet-unknown mediums and writer's would never see another cent for it. What the decision may really mean is that now more than ever it will be incumbent upon writers to pay attention to the wording in their contracts and push back when publishers attempt to usurp their rights and their royalties."The lawsuit ruling establishes a principle. It's one small step forward," says Marc Cooper, a contributing editor to (ital)The Nation(ital) magazine and a former executive officer of the NWU. "What it will mean depends on the ability of writers to stick together and keep their voices heard, especially when it comes to penny-pinching new media companies that may parade as the future but whose relationships with their freelancers are downright Dickensian."

It's the picture of a perfect educational experience. Twenty or so elementary schoolers seated around their teacher in rapt attention, responding to questions with thoughtful answers. Their wide eyes and wondering voices are evidence of the young minds eager to learn. But wait. Let's listen a little closer. What's that they're talking about?"Is it true that gay men and lesbian women dress in tight leather ... to attract people?" asks one student. "Are all women with short hair dykes?" asks another. Two others share their thoughts that all gay people are white; at least, that's what they'd seen on the talk shows.The scene is part of a controversial new documentary called, "It's Elementary," which focuses on the ways young children think and talk about homosexuality. The 58-minute film, directed by Academy Award-winner Debra Chasnoff, has been shown in more than 500 schools across the country. It has won numerous awards and garnered endless praise from film critics, educators and gay rights activists.But despite its critical acclaim, the Public Broadcasting System (PBS) has decided not to pick up the program for national distribution on its satellite feed. Consequently, while individual PBS stations can choose to air it independently, the documentary will not gain nearly as much exposure as if distributed by the PBS feed.According to some observers, PBS's decision is a result of the influence of the Christian right, which sees the film as Chasnoff's evil scheme to turn children into gays and lesbians."Ever since it first came out, 'It's Elementary' has become a lighting rod for conservative criticism," says Robert Bray, former media director for the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force. "The way it brought together these three elements -- homosexuality and children and schools -- made conservatives go berserk. PBS obviously shied away from distributing it out of fear that the conservative backlash would put their Congressional funding at risk."Co-produced by Chasnoff and Helen Cohen through their production company Women's Educational Media, the film visits six elementary and junior high schools across the country. It focuses on the creative ways children are being taught about homosexuality in the classroom. Some of the most thought-provoking footage chronicles the attitudes children develop about gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transgendered people when they have no guidance from teachers or other adults -- or when those adults are actively attempting to bury the subject. From the questions students ask and the comments they make during the program, it's clear they're both curious and confused about homosexuality."Most of the time I put gays and lesbians down," admitted one junior high boy, "I say things like 'gay men molest children.' Most of the time I don't even know what I'm saying."Chasnoff was inspired to make the film because of the pervasion of anti-gay violence and harassment, and the need she saw to educate children on the topic. "Schools have a role to play in helping kids grow up so they are understanding and respectful of everyone in our community," says Chasnoff. "The goal is to get people to rethink assumptions." She had a personal interest as well: her own son, now 10, was entering kindergarten when she began filming. Chasnoff was wondering how his family structure -- having two moms -- would be received by his classmates.Conservative BacklashIf some Christian right leaders could have their way, however, "It's Elementary" would be kept entirely off America's airwaves. Since its release in 1996, the film has been attacked by scores of prominent conservatives, from radio personality Laura Schlessinger to Christian evangelist D. James Kennedy, who heads Florida-based Coral Ridge Ministries. Kennedy decried "It's Elementary" as "a propaganda program ... that will encourage children to embrace homosexuality." A statement from Janet Folger, national director of the reactionary Center for Reclaiming America, called the film the "Joe Camel of the homosexual movement." Coral Ridge Ministries even went so far as to create its own video, "Suffer the Children," which uses footage lifted from "It's Elementary" to accuse Chasnoff's film of such crimes as teaching children open-mindedness. In the climate of such conservative attacks, PBS declined to endorse the documentary by distributing it through its national feed.However, San Francisco's public television station, KQED, has stepped up to the plate. A longtime supporter of gay-themed shows, KQED is the sponsor and distributor of "It's Elementary." KQED is packaging the program with an "in-studio debate" component that viewers at home can dial in to or access online to voice their opinions about the film."We're very excited about the program because it does endorse tolerance and will help start a dialogue," says Tina Bachemin, a KQED spokeswoman. So far, says Bachemin, KQED's marketing efforts have paid off: of the 347 public stations across the country, 89 have already scheduled the program, 17 have said they'll broadcast it but haven't set a date, and 53 are still undecided. These figures -- which boil down to a third of public stations running the documentary -- are typical for a program that's not distributed by the PBS national feed.Though the program has been embraced by many stations, some have chosen not to broadcast it. Conspicuously absent is Dallas' KERA.Steve Anderson, KERA program manager, says the decision not to show "It's Elementary" was made because the film wasn't "balanced.""It spent a lot of time talking about why you should talk about these issues with kids, but didn't devote time to the opposite viewpoint," he says.Chasnoff calls such a response a "cop out" and says she didn't feel the need to cover the point of view that already permeates our society.There is still a possibility that KERA will run the program down the road, if they can come up with an acceptable way to "balance it out.""I think they're depriving people in the community of the chance to think about something in a new way," Chasnoff says of the stations that will not broadcast the film.However, there is still time for such stations to change their minds. Viewers can contact their local stations and let their opinions be known. The Women's Educational Media Web site at www.womedia.org has information about how to do that, as well as local air dates and times."Every PBS station should show 'It's Elementary,'" says parent Jeff Gillenkirk, author of an upcoming book about single fathers. "Because it will provoke honest discussions of gay and lesbian issues between parents, teachers and children. And those are the kinds of discussions our society needs to raise open-minded kids who can accept people of all sexual orientations."With such discussions, Chasnoff hopes, maybe the next generation will look back at homophobia and intolerance and wonder -- in the words of one "It's Elementary" fourth grader -- "What's the big whoop?"

For any woman who has ever debated whether or not a potential lover is "spongeworthy," a la Elaine Benes in the oft-quoted episode of "Seinfeld," the time may be nearing when she can lower her standards. On the sitcom Elaine hoarded mass quantities of the Today Sponge upon learning the manufacturer was discontinuing the popular over-the-counter form of birth control. After stockpiling enough sponges to keep from procreating the population of a small nation she applied rigorous standards each time she decided whether or not to sleep with a man -- debating their "spongeworthiness."It's doubtful that anyone really did the same, though many were outraged when the sponge -- once the most popular form of over-the-counter birth control for women -- was pulled off the market in 1995. But for those who miss the small, round, squishy device, and others who are looking for an alternate form of birth control, New Jersey-based Allendale Pharmaceuticals is coming to the rescue.Having bought the equipment and rights to the sponge from the former owner, Whitehall-Robins Healthcare, Allendale announced in March that they plan to have the same sponge that many knew and loved back on the market by this fall. Whitehall-Robins manufactured the product from 1983 until it was taken off the market, which was due to factory violations in the one plant where the sponge was manufactured, not because of safety or reliability concerns, as some rumors suggested.Used by 6.4 million women between 1983 and 1995, the prospect of the reintroduction of the sponge is being warmly received."Options are a good thing when it comes to sexual health and birth control," says Sandor Gardos, Ph.D., a San Francisco-based sexologist. He says there are currently too few over-the-counter choices.The new sponge will be exactly the same as the old version, allowing for the same discrete, convenient use that garnered it so many fans. The half-inch thick, round, squishy device is one and three quarters inch in diameter and coated in sperm-killing nonoxynol-9. It's effective and can be left in for up to 24 hours. The disposable device has a dimple in the middle that fits over the cervix to block sperm from entering, and a ribbon-like loop on the bottom so it can be easily removed. (At least in theory, as some women reported difficulty removing the sponges, especially when they flipped over, making the loop difficult to find.)The sponge works in much the same way as a diaphragm and has a similar rate of effectiveness -- about 90 percent. However, while a diaphragm is fitted by a doctor who also instructs the woman on inserting the device correctly, women using the sponge don't receive such training, and effectiveness is greatly reduced when it's not used appropriately.To combat that issue the sponge will come with clearer instructions than in its previous incarnation, and Allendale will set up a toll-free number to field questions from users.While it's a great option for many women, particularly those who have a problem with hormonal contraceptives (like the Pill) or a latex sensitivity, there are some who shouldn't use it."You have to be very comfortable with touching your own body to be able to use this method," says Gardos. In addition, anyone with a sensitivity to nonoxynol-9 should stay away.And then there's the subject of sexually transmitted diseases, against which the sponge offers virtually no protection. However, when used in combination with a condom there's a 99 percent rate of effectiveness."It's a great sort of one-two punch," says Gardos, "and a great back-up method if the condom breaks."Since the FDA never revoked the license for the sponge, it shouldn't be too difficult to get the device back on the market, as it can be reintroduced without any further testing or licensing. However, Allendale is waiting for the FDA to inspect and approve their sponge production operations. When that happens it's just a matter of time before women can begin jumping in bed with those less-than-spongeworthy mates, since they'll no longer need to worry about wasting their precious sponges.Michelle Holcenberg is a freelance writer based in San Francisco.

We all know the angst-ridden, neurotic, media-created female archetype well. But why must temporary, break-up-inspired insanity and fear of ending up alone with too many cats be portrayed as distinctly female territory? Men have also been known to whine, stalk and cry in the rain when the object of their affection decides they're no longer interested. So finally, to counterbalance all the Ally McBeal types out there, the male version of the insecure relationship disaster has been brought to the big screen in the film "High Fidelity," starring John Cusack. "The scariest thing about dating," says Cusack, "is there comes a point, no matter how fantastic a relationship has been, where you don't know quite whether this isn't the right person or if this is just the same thing you will go through again and again. You're always looking for the rush of the first two months. You never quite know if you have itchy feet or it's in your head."Even if Cusack hasn't totally figured the relationship thing out yet, High Fidelity, based on Nick Hornby's popular book of the same name, may open up some room for dialogue between the sexes.Cusack, who also co-wrote and co-produced the film, plays Rob Gordon, the 36-year-old slacker owner of a failing Chicago record store who's much more committed to his extensive collection of vinyl than to his live-in girlfriend (Iben Hjejle). The film opens with his girlfriend moving out, and Rob spends the rest of the time trying to exorcise his relationship demons, hunting down ex-girlfriends from as far back as grade-school in an attempt to figure out where things went wrong. In his role as Rob Cusack sketches an often unflattering (though not wholly unbelievable) caricature of an immature, self-absorbed, confused man. He's afraid of committing to his girlfriend because, you know, his fantasy woman could step into his divey record shop and whisk him off his feet any day.While Cusack is hush hush about his own romantic life -- he's been linked to Minnie Driver, Claire Forlani and Neve Campbell, among others -- at 33 he admits to going though his fair share of messy break ups and struggling with many of the same relationship issues. He says that when he read Hornby's book he saw himself in it. "Rob is someone most straight men can relate to," Cusack says. "They might not go as low as he does, and they might not be as poor or as inert, but as far as the emotions and the conversations and being intimate and committing to a woman -- as far as the circus in our heads -- it's really tapped into all that."Interspersed with insights into the male romantic psyche is Rob's relationship with his two socially stunted employees -- Dick (Todd Louiso) and Barry (Jack Black). The trio bond through their encyclopedic knowledge of pop music and snobbery toward those who are less auditorily educated than they. While it follows the book closely, some critics have been bothered that the film takes the story out of its native London and sets up shop in Chicago. Cusack says that doesn't change the story. "It's about men and how they relate to women and themselves and about a love of music," he says. (Even Hornby didn't mind the change in venue.) Unlike Rob, Cusack isn't struggling in a dead-end career. With more than 40 movies under his belt, his own production company, screenwriting credits and screen and stage awards, Cusack has built a reputation as one of today's most respected young actors, and he's done so without falling prey to the Hollywood machine. "I don't want to be involved in anything that's jingoistic or sensationalistic," he told Premiere magazine in 1990. "People in Hollywood don't think about the moral ramifications of what they do. They're trying to make a buck, and they continually whitewash history."And for the most part he's stayed true to his ideals, making films he believes in. He admits to working within the system in order to gain the freedom necessary to work on less mainstream projects. The action blockbuster Con Air, for instance, allowed him to make the black comedy Grosse Pointe Blank, his first turn as a producer and screenwriter. Cusack says he likes to do films that are entertaining and also ask you to think a bit, like Grosse Pointe Blank. The story about a hit man who goes back to his high school reunion relied on absurdity and satire to provide social criticism, he says."We were trying to get in the genre and then come through the back door and get some ideas on it. Sort of subvert the genre," Cusack told E! Online.He's anti-Hollywood for the most part, eschewing trendy hot spots and vowing a dislike for the Oscars and the politics behind them. (Though he's self-effacing enough to suggest that his opinion might change were he to be nominated for an award.)Of his penchant for playing offbeat types (like a disgruntled puppeteer in last year's Being John Malkovich, or a con artist who is seduced by his mother in 1990's The Grifters) he says:"I like odd things. I don't like straight-down-the-middle leading men. They're boring. They have no shadows."Does he have shadows?"I think everybody has a lot of shadows."It's part of the mystique perhaps. Part of the anti-pretty-boy, every-guy persona that makes his characters so easy to relate to. They're unafraid of exposing their own weaknesses, they rarely have things all figured out, they're honest about their desires for love and acceptance and they're often in need of a decent haircut. In short, they make the rest of us feel like we're not doing so badly.

While I generally look for qualities like funny, smart and interesting in potential dates, there was a period of time when all I cared about was finding someone who gave good e-mail -- and gave it often. I would share the most mundane details of daily life with near strangers with whom I'd shared little more than a so-so Italian dinner in the brick-and-mortar world.

But danger lurked. After many mishaps, miscommunications and dating disasters, I began to see e-mail less as a handy tool and more as a high-speed way to put my foot in my mouth. "Internet time" has come to mean not only how fast a company can grow and make one an IPO millionaire, but also how quickly a new relationship can sputter, stall and fall flat, or flourish quickly out of control.

My problem started out small -- as such problems are wont to do -- and didn't interfere too much with my work life. The first guy on the other end of the communiques (I'll call him Minute Man because of his high-speed e-mail prowess), had an extremely lenient boss (himself), leaving him much time to e-mail -- say 10, 15, even 20 times a day. Whatever it took to satisfy my urges.

Although it became clear about 10 minutes into our first date that we had next-to-nothing in common, every time that electronic life-support system chirped I raced like a little kid to click, click, click, until I was staring at the contents of his latest gift. Never mind that the message generally went something like this:

Minute Man: "Hey, what's up? How was your Sunday? I spent most of it hung-over hanging out at 'Ye Olde Sportsbar watching the Niner's game."

Stimulating reading it was not. And while I generally prefer the tormented-artist type to the overgrown fraternity boy, I had made the switch to the latter a few months before, due in no small part to the fact that most of the former exist on temp jobs, causing impaired e-mailing regularity. And since e-mail expertise took precedence for me in those days over cerebral stimulation, this guy fit the bill.

After a number of dates and hundreds of messages I admitted to myself that the two of us shared little more than a need to cop a little e-lovin'. Friends intervened and I finally kicked the nasty habit.

But it only took a couple days of uninterrupted work life until I was jonesin' for a fix. When I met my next soon-to-be paramour (a friend of my friend's boyfriend) I couldn't help but notice that he sounded distinctly like a cast member from "Friends" (That is SO not cool.) and he giggled like a schoolgirl. But I couldn't hear that through a computer and I focused instead on the fact that he was a tech geek with almost intravenous e-mail. When he asked, I gave him my @.com and when he e-mailed to ask me to dinner figured "How bad could it be?" and I agreed. (My mother had commandeered my brain.) But before I even went on that first date our relationship shifted into high gear and we were e-mailing back and forth like fiends.

Me: "Get this, today my boss asked me to send personal e-mails to all 453 users who sent us messages about our Back-to-School chats. Fun stuff." Send.

His missives were equally enthralling. I wondered how a new relationship could possibly be so boring, but he was virtually attentive and I figured things would improve after we had a real-life date. I continued in that state for a week and a half, anticipating our in-person rendezvous and hoping I imagined his giggle.

I didn't. I even got to hear it when we kissed, hee hee hee, which we did after splitting a bottle of wine. I realized that despite the hours of online entertainment Mr. Primetime had provided, the only attraction I felt for him in person had to be fermented to exist.

Now I had to end things, which I figured shouldn't be too difficult since I had the benefit of e-mail, that wonderful enabler of passive-aggressive behavior, and we had only gone out that one time.

Wrong. Instead I was about to get caught in a technological web that would conspire to make my extraction from the situation as painful as that of impacted wisdom teeth. And I'd overlooked the fact that although we'd only gone out once, the incessant e-mailing had taken us from honeymoon period to old-married-couple-squabbling status in the span of two weeks. It started when he e-mailed me the next morning.

10:15 a.m. Mr. Primetime: "I had such a great time last night. So, whaddya say we grab a bite or catch a flick this week?"

What to do? I did nothing.

3:00 p.m. My phone rang. "That was SO not cool of you to ignore my e-mail," said the voice on the other end of the line.

I lied: "Yeah, sorry, I've been in meetings all day."

Mr. Primetime: "Meetings? Then, like, how were you able to read my message at 10:23 a.m.?"

Damn. We both used America Online, which means having the ability to check the status of messages, something Steve Case and his buddies came up with for those paranoids who get off on star 69 and caller ID. Apparently Mr. Primetime was one of those.

Me: "Oh -- yeah -- right. Actually ("actually" being code for "I'm thinking of an excuse right now") this e-mailing is cutting into my work. Things are getting stressful here and I've got to stop."

Mr. Primetime: "Stressful? I SO don't believe that and I think being honest is, like, just about the most important thing in a relationship."

And therein lay the crux of the problem, because I think honesty is important in a relationship, too. But beyond our obsessive e-mailing we didn't have a relationship. We'd gone out once. ONCE. After way too much annoying conversation and a few follow-up e-mails (a cyber restraining order would've come in handy) we finally parted ways.

The experience taught me a valuable lesson: E-mail should be the salad dressing of a new relationship-used to enhance flavor. I vow not to drown my lettuce and tomatoes in empty calories from then on. And I do well for awhile.

I start dating Urban Hipster, a graphic artist. He has no interest in killing time with gratuitous e-mails. I see this as a chance to quit my habit cold turkey and use e-mail only for necessity -- scheduling dates and the like.

Thursday, 9:30 a.m. Urban Hipster: "So are we still on for the party tomorrow night?"

10:28 a.m. Me: "Definitely. Sounds fun."

11:15 a.m. Urban Hipster: "Great. It's at some loft and I think we need to dress up."

11:30:20 a.m. Me: "Does that mean you'll be wearing your leather chaps?"

11:30:24 a.m. I slipped. I knew it was only a matter of time. Unsend, unsend!! But of course things are out of my control at this point. Luck and the server are handling my destiny now.

11:35 a.m. I check my e-mail. Nothing.

11:35:30 a.m. I check again. I wait. I pray. I use the watched-pot-never-boils theory and go to the bathroom. I check my voice mail. I call my voice mail at home. I repeat. It's an endless cycle. I'm a whirling dervish, a pagan praying to my cyber god. BRING ME MAIL.

3:15 p.m. I decide he hates me. I sink into a severe depression. I forward the message to my closest friend, looking for reassurance that I wasn't totally off base. She tells me I wasn't. This is why she's my friend.

3:28 p.m. I no longer care. I decide I'll find someone new and I console myself with the thought that I can always run and hide if I happen to see him in public.

5:37 p.m. My little mailbox springs to life. There's a message from him. With an odd sense of detachment I open it.

Urban Hipster: "Hi, got your message, was out of the office all day. Yes, I'll have the leather chaps on. Will you be wearing your feather boa and stilettos?"

I'm relieved, but I realize my nine lives are running low. I decide that with so little restraint and so much potential for disaster I should confine my dating endeavors to the real world. I find what is probably the only guy on earth who has yet to get an e-mail account. I make a date.

I wonder how long it takes to send postcards.