When I want to know the answer to something, I turn to Google. Google is knowledge at your fingertips – full of useful and not-so-useful information. Whether it’s research for an article, catching up on current news, or poring over food ideas (read: killing time), I invariably ‘Google’ it.
I happily used Google to diagnose my first pregnancy, but I wasn’t prepared for the day it delivered devastating news about a close friend.
When I was in my early twenties I lived in Vancouver for a year. The city had a magnetism that seduced me – mountains, beaches, stunning landscapes and natural beauty every direction you looked. Plus, I was young, single and free; the perfect formula for adventure.
I first met John at a downtown nightclub shortly after I arrived. Captivated by my accent, he told me he had lived in Australia a few years prior and loved it. He was interested in who I was, why I was there and what I wanted out of life. He had a quick wit delivered with confidence and just the right amount of cheek. I liked him immediately. He asked me for my phone number that night and when I asked for his in return, he told me he didn’t have a phone. I later found out that he had given up his mobile phone so he could sponsor a child.
John was studying to be an actor, and was full of enthusiasm for life. When he wasn’t at acting classes he was learning a new language, dancing the Salsa or helping people. He was a philosopher, a deep thinker, and an all-round good guy with looks that promised an on-screen career. We formed a quick and natural connection and I felt certain I’d made a friend for life.
We kept in touch after I left Vancouver and emailed each other regularly for years. It was always the highlight of my day when I received his emails, which were often funny and a little flirtatious. He asked me to send him a couple of Australian exports: Tim Tams and Lynx deodorant. He was convinced it was Lynx that made the ladies wild for him in Australia.