Modern Manners + Etiquette: Unwanted Internet Advances

Monday, April 11, 2011

Didi Lorillard, GoLocalProv Manners and Etiquette Expert

Five years ago while looking for a drug that is not available in this country, but is hugely popular in Europe for the relief of sports related stress injuries, I ordered a nonsteroidal antinflammatory (NSAID) over the Internet, through Google from a company in Canada. Assuming I, the mystery buyer, wanted to be active in all aspects of a physical life, my order arrived with six free tablets of Viagra. The gel had such a horrid stench to it, that I threw it away after the second try. The story of the Viagra lingers as I write.

The beginning of unwanted email advances

From that day forward I began receiving emails from drug distributors all over Canada hawking Viagra and Cialis. I quickly learned to identify Canadian Web addresses and clicked spam after highlighting them; nonetheless, to this day I cringe while spamming a spotty address to ban the sex drug from my inbox. The addresses are never the same, a combination of a few letters and numbers, although sometimes a province, such as Alberta, appears in the Net address, or they're proceeded by a person's name. It's only exploratory surgery, so if I never responded to your evite, you now know why.

Anyone who has done business via the Internet and has run a Web site consultancy for as long as I have, has picked up a lot of garbage—and please don't call them cookies, because there is nothing sweet about them. However, when I spot a friend's name in my inbox trying to link me to a company disposing of anything—from the Nigerian bank scam to discount designer shoes—I do find a bit of comfort in knowing that I'm not the only person in cyberspace afflicted with an Internet herpes.

What I hadn't anticipated was the extent to which a major outbreak would impact my life.

Fortunately, a very good friend was on hand when the pus weeped and within an hour he had sent a warning to everyone on my contact list from me with the subject: Do Not Open My Earlier Email. That was fine for those who hadn't already opened it, but for those who had, well, let's put it this way, I am still feeling the scars because these sores won't heal. Just as I think I'm cured, it comes back at an untimely moment.

The first responses were from a 90-year-old jazz historian, whose comment was “I don't think you meant to send me this,” followed by humorous words of wisdom from a male Buddhist, which are too salacious to repeat here. Then in quick succession: a rare book dealer who specializes in antiquarian etiquette books, the lovely secretary at my church, several former boyfriends, a renowned male professor of psychiatry, a couple of New York editors, a friend of mine's daughter, a recent widow, my very attractive dentist, and a friend whose husband recently had open heart surgery. Seething, she left an irritate voice message reminding me of her husband's critical condition and asking, “How could you do this to me knowing how difficult my life is right now?” Nonetheless, the hardest whiners to apologize to were those asking,“Why do you think I have erectile dysfunction?”

Condolences and more

Gratefully, the offended were followed—presumably by those who heeded the warning—by a steady stream of condolences, thank-yous and get well soon emails: “Not to worry, it happens to us all.” “Thanks for the warning.” “No problem.” “Not a big deal.” “Don't worry, your Mac blocks viruses.” Truth be told, all that attention became addictive. If I had been pranked, what the hell—it was childishly fun getting a rile out of so many people.

When you have Internet herpes, you find out who your friends are. Not only do friends say, “no sweat,” but they take the time to offer the patient advice: Change your password. Leave Aol. Get such-and-such software. Here's how you track down the contaminator... Most of which lead not only to a string of their own stories, but heady discourse over the ethics of contaminating others and how to go about healing the wounded.

Luckily, the majority seem in favor of forgiving and forgetting, but I'm not sure anyone will really forget having their sexual performance questioned. OK sex drug trafficers: I can be ready any time, so leave me alone.

Didi Lorillard started a Web site eight years ago as a tool for researching the state of manners and etiquette in our time for her book “Newport Etiquette + Modern Manners.” Please tell her your concerns and voice your stories @ NewportManners.com, which is Internet herpes-free. You can also Follow, Like, and Share Didi on Facebook, Twitter, and Linkedin, after reading her other GoLocalProv columns linked here below.

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