I met Marc where so many modern romances begin: the Internet. @MarcTeachout responded to a tweet of mine about coffee with a sketchy-looking hyperlink: “love coffee but looking for an extra boost? bit.ly/2sVEJgO” Risking cam girl pop ups and virus transfer, I clicked. 

The webpage discussed SoGlo, a company that sold “cutting-edge coffee products” infused with detoxifying “miracle berries” to make drinkers healthier and more energized than ever before. I was skeptical, but Marc appeared strikingly handsome in his avatar as he gazed into space while clutching a coffee mug. I signed up for the program and began DMing with Marc everyday.  Despite his incessant discussion of the company’s mission—to provide everyday people an opportunity to earn additional income while contributing to global awareness of miracle berries’ superfood qualities—I felt a closeness with him that I’d never felt before. 

So what if he pontificated without asking about my personal life or opinions? He wasn’t any different from the exes who spent hours collecting vintage pornography or action figures and demonstrated zero interest in my existence. He’d dodge even the simplest questions: Boxers or briefs?  Turkey bacon or regular bacon? Are you related to Congresswoman and Progressive activist Zephyr? But I couldn’t expect him to perform the basic emotional labor required to keep a relationship intact. He was busy evangelizing about SoGlo, scratching his balls, and watching sweaty men wrestle each other in a totally straight way, I assume. He never mentioned other hobbies, which were probably too Masculine and Important for my feeble female mind to appreciate.

When he didn’t show up at a Ramada Inn “gathering of like-minded strivers ready to tell the world about SoGlo,” I was forced to admit what I’d known all along: there was no Marc.

However, that fateful day I met my partner Richard whose Internet “girlfriend” Alina led him straight to me – after a detour that rendered him $10,000 poorer and recovered from moderate colitis.    

I’m sharing my story in the hopes that other women won’t confuse DMing with a hot, enigmatic spambot for a relationship with a real, emotionally deficient man. The material and spiritual consequences could be disastrous. In my case, I struggled to sell $500 of SoGlo products to little success and experienced debilitating diarrhea whenever I sampled them. It ends up a “detoxifying superfood” mostly makes you poop nonstop. My perineum also tingles uncomfortably when Gemini is in the 9th house, but that may be unrelated.    

My entanglement with “Marc” taught me that a good, actual man is hard to find – and that he’s more likely to loiter in a Ramada Inn lobby than the murky depths of cyberspace. So remain fearless in your pursuit of love and let me know if you’d like to purchase the surplus inventory we have. It’s crowding our closet and one sip could re-trigger our bowel issues. 




The Higgs Weldon is a humor website with funny stories, articles, cartoons, and one liners. It was started by the Los Angeles stand-up comedy community, but takes submissions from everybody. Please read and enjoy our jokes!


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