You want him even after you quit him. You want to exchange some deep and meaningful comments. Some frivolous and dirty Twitters. Perhaps even languish in the afterglow of a good Facebook status update together.
And even though in the end you know that he will end up letting the strangest of strangers in on your dark secrets. That you will wake up to discover that his siren's song has gotten you to reveal that the OB told you your breasts had, "A lot of texture" during your annual exam. And that it was all you could do not to yell, "Say stretch marks bitch. Say it!" You come back still.
And you'll think, "My God I'm someones mother. Someones wife. I have got to quit this relationship." And you will walk away. Delete Twitter accounts. Swear to only go online to check emails.
And then your 4 year old will spend the day singing the Lazy Town theme song over and over again. Until your left eye starts twitching. And before you realize what's happened you and your internet boyfriend are back in bed together. Lazily smoking a virtual cigarette as you reflect on a blissed out two hours of grownup Twittering.
And you're back. You reinstate your blog. Make a new Twitter account.
Only this time you swear to do it right. You won't get all caught up in all his rascal charms. Spending hours together when you should be tending to your life, showering. You swear to enjoy the occasional guilty pleasure but not be swept away entirely by him.
You won't make the mistake of trying to turn your internet boyfriend into relationship material this time. You will simply steal moments after you've done the dishes, washed sticky hands and sat across the table from your husband to listen to his day.
At least, that's the plan. He's a seductive little bastard.