You’ve always wondered what happened to that dreamy boy Billy, haven’t you? He fed you Boone’s Farm and then stole your virginity in the crafts tent back at Camp Sodomy. You never heard from him again and you’re absolutely sure he came to a miserable end. Once the computer age was upon us, you did a search for that horrible, flower-stealing cad using precise keywords: Billy, syphilis, prison, rectal trauma. You Googled his ass. I hope you found what you were looking for.

Or you’re a hardworking father of six with a hefty mortgage and a sweater vest. You wonder what would have happened if you’d married that harlot Loretta with the double D’s. You imagine impulse trips to Reno with Her Chestiness and high times on exotic islands. But surely that bimbo couldn’t go off and have fun without you. Surely she fell apart the moment you left her for that more responsible if less boobed woman you married. Surely she gained 200 pounds, a third of which came in the form of sorrow-induced acne. So you search for details of your old flame’s life by hunting with the words: Loretta, asylum, fatal obesity, bosoms. You Googled that broad in a manner that borders on cyber rape.

I’ve Googled a bunch of ex-girlfriends and I suspect it was the best Googling they ever had. A once raucous fling has taken up mid-wifing. Another went on to become an attorney in Scarsdale, no doubt pushed to intense study by the heartbreak of losing me back in junior high. A more recent girlfriend did some jail time for coke.

The fine art of Googling, Zabasearching and other forms of cyber intelligence have afforded many of us a voyeuristic glimpse into the lives of people we might otherwise have forgotten completely. Some have reunited with old pals or former prom queens simply by producing a contact number or address and reaching into the past. Others are content to sift through all that html code, looking for clues about old acquaintances like a stalker sifting through a lost love’s garbage.

A recent study reveals that half of us have Googled people we know, used to know or want to know. What that uncovers, I think, is that the other half are too busy Googling themselves, a phenomenon known as “vanity searching.” Which leads to the question: is Googling yourself a form of masturbation?

I’ll let you ponder that while you’re off searching for a wet nap.

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