The Internet That Proved Her Wrong
A friend who is 20 years younger than me recently asked me what my internet was like back then. The question made me pause, not because I couldn’t remember, but because I needed a moment to think about how to explain it. After a moment, I knew exactly which story to tell — one from about 20 years ago about an IRC channel, a lonely teenager, and how a community of strangers became family. Because this is what my internet was like back then, and not everything was shit.
When Digital Spaces Felt Like Home
This was the internet of the late 1990s and early 2000s, when IRC channels were our gathering places and screen names were as real as any given name. I was 25, part of a tight-knit online community where most of us ranged from our early twenties to thirties. We were the usual mix you’d find in those spaces — metal heads, goths, punks, and misfits who had found each other in the digital ether. This is where I got my nickname „tomate“ which I still have and use today.
Then one day, someone new found their way to our channel.
A Teenager in Grief
Her story unfolded gradually, the way personal histories do in online spaces — shared piece by piece, trust building with each conversation. We didn’t know she was 14 at first. Her mother had died. Her father was drowning in his own grief. She had a twin sister, but somehow felt completely alone in the world. When we eventually learned her age, we realized she was carrying a weight that would challenge adults twice her age.
Looking back, I’m acutely aware that a minor finding her way into an adult online space could have gone very differently. Even then, we understood this was potentially problematic. She was lucky — incredibly lucky — that she stumbled into our particular corner of the internet and not into a channel with people who might have had different intentions.
I still don’t know exactly what made us collectively decide to take care of her. There was no formal discussion, no vote taken. We simply recognized someone who needed what we could offer: presence, listening ears, and the patient understanding that only comes from people who’ve felt like outsiders themselves. When she talked about her grief and pain, we were there. When she felt alone, we reminded her she wasn’t.
An Impossible Request
As her 16th birthday approached, she shared news that filled her with dread. Her father, in an attempt to create normalcy, had decided she and her twin sister would have a birthday party. „All the people from my school will come,“ she told us. „For her. I don’t have friends at school. You are my friends.“
In a moment that surprised even me, I said, „Well, we could come.“ The rest of the channel quickly agreed — of course we could come. It seemed like the natural thing to say, though I didn’t expect it to go anywhere.
„But what should I say to my dad?“ she asked.
„Tell him you have some people you want to invite,“ I suggested. „Your friends from the internet.“
I thought it was just a comforting gesture, something to make her feel less alone about the party. I never imagined she was desperate enough to actually ask her father if her internet friends could attend. But she did. And incredibly, he said yes.
Looking back, I’m honestly baffled by this. If I had a 14-year-old daughter who wanted to invite her adult friends from the internet to her birthday party, I would absolutely not allow it. Any reasonable parent would have serious concerns about a group of adults wanting to attend a teenager’s party. Her father’s decision remains a mystery to me — perhaps his own grief clouded his judgment, or maybe he was just desperate to see his daughter happy. Whatever his reasoning, it opened the door to something extraordinary.
Fifteen Adults and One Birthday Party
What happened next was pure magic of the old internet. Fifteen adults coordinated in a secret channel she didn’t know about. We planned presents, organized who would bring cake, and even plotted a cake fight. Our coordination was chaotic at best — like a military operation run by enthusiastic amateurs. We had so much joy in the planning, partly because we sensed how important this would be for her, but mostly because we were genuinely excited about getting to meet our friend.
The Perfect Party
Several cars pulled up to the suburban house. Fifteen adults stepped out, wearing band t‑shirts and dark clothing — exactly the kind of people who make neighbors peek through their curtains. Here we were: the internet friends, now in the pants world for a teenager’s birthday party.
We had the time of our lives. More importantly, she did too. While her twin sister entertained her „cool“ school friends, our group played games, told stories, and laughed until our sides hurt. Later, she would tell us it was the first time she had genuinely laughed in months.
We were ourselves, but we were also the best versions of ourselves. We didn’t drink or take drugs. We toned down our usual colorful language. Her father was there, along with other family members — I think an aunt, though I don’t remember exactly. We understood that we needed to prove we were the good people, even if we didn’t look like what they might expect good people to look like. We had to show that despite our band t‑shirts, despite being the kind of adults who hung out in IRC channels, we were trustworthy. We were there for the right reasons.
For us, it wasn’t charity or a good deed. It was simply meeting a friend face to face. I still don’t know her legal name because her IRC nickname is her real name. In our digital community, she was exactly who she chose to be, and that was more authentic than any name on a birth certificate.
Twenty Years Later
That was roughly twenty years ago, and we still talk. She remains part of our extended digital family, and we remain part of hers. The internet may have changed, but some connections transcend platforms and time.
Six years ago, she was living in Paris with a boyfriend in Berlin. She flew to Berlin for her birthday, only to have him break up with her at the airport when she landed. In that moment of heartbreak and humiliation, thousands of miles from home in a foreign city, she called me.
She spent that weekend on my couch. I ordered food, we watched terrible TV shows, and she played with my dog Barbara. It wasn’t the birthday she had planned, but it wasn’t the disaster it could have been either. By the time she flew home, she had a few decent days under her belt and wasn’t drowning in despair. Later, she would tweet: „The nicest person on this weekend was a dog.“
The Internet That Was
Looking back, what we had was something precious. The social spaces we built and shaped ourselves on the internet, where a 14-year-old girl could stumble into a channel full of adults and find safety instead of danger. Where geography meant nothing and connection meant everything. Where you could meet people you never would have encountered in the pants world — people from different cities, different backgrounds, different walks of life, all drawn together by something more meaningful than proximity.
It was an internet where strangers became family not through blood or shared ZIP codes, but through consistent presence and genuine care. Where showing up for someone wasn’t a hashtag or a performance, but simply what you did for people who mattered to you. Where the weirdos and misfits and outcasts found each other across vast distances and created something beautiful together.
That connection we forged twenty-five years ago remains unbreakable. She knows she can call at 3 in the morning, and I’ll reach out to our old IRC network. They’ll rally, just as they did twenty years ago, because that’s what we do for each other. And she would do the same for any of us.
And that is the internet I hold dear. The internet I love and miss. The internet that made the day for a 16-year-old girl who thought she had no one in the world. The internet that proved her wrong.
@tomate “Your friends from the internet.”
Bravo. Could have gone wrong, but didn’t because of you.
This is a very cool story and a reminder that loose networks of people can be positive and make an impact. Internet native since ‘94, and the number of people I’ve met I still catch up with ☺️ is about the same as my Primary, Secondary, Uni and work. Difference is like you said I can call on them if needed.
The below cartoon by Peter Steiner, New Yorker, July 5th, 1993 was often quoted. In your story it’s the punchline.
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Glad you put that into writing on the blog. It was a nice thread on mastodon as well but this way I feel it even has more impact.
@tomate
great story, thanks for sharing
And yes, the safety standards have drastically changed since then!
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