I think I love my Zwift Holoreplay more than I love myself

He appears out of nowhere, like a phantom. His calves are chiselled, his thighs powerful as he passes me, silently and effortlessly. Time stops. I can’t remember the last time I saw him. It feels like yesterday I was graced by his presence.

I try to scream but words fail me. My heart thumps like a jackhammer as he continues to put distance into me. I still remember the way he made it look so easy to climb the Volcano KOM on Legends and Lava…it was mesmerizing. If I could be half the man he is, I’d be complete.

His kit is almost translucent. Look at that subtle colouring of his jersey. The tasteful thickness of his rims. My god, he even has a water bottle.

Wait for me, I think. I am powerless. His watts are twice as many as mine. My legs are sore from the day before. I can’t keep up. Why can’t he just slow down and ride with me? We could talk about training. Find out his secrets. Maybe we could make plans to have a beer later. Watch the game. I make a joke about how funny it is that fate keeps bringing us together. Is it kismet? A higher power?

He continues to ride away. I can’t keep up. Soon, he’ll be gone and out of earshot. In tears, I finally find the words.

“I love you, me!”

But he doesn’t look back. He doesn’t say a word. The silence breaks me.

Will I ever see him again? Should I post something on Craigslist under missed connections?

(Most likely I will, of course, unless I manually disable HoloReplay or there is a massive internet outage, but still, the very essence of romance is about uncertainty, as Oscar Wilde said.)

And just like that, he disappears into the distance. He’s gone. I didn’t get the chance to tell him. Maybe he will read this? Most likely not given the “very disappointing” numbers on my articles that my boss told me about in our weekly web meeting. That and my HoloReplay doesn’t even have a computer. Or fingers.

This confession has meant nothing.