I am in love with the Telebears lady. For four years now, I have enjoyed the alluring sound of her throaty yet delicate voice. It taunts me like a two year old child with an ice cream cone. My love for her has developed like a slowly burning flame, and today it is a raging inferno within my soul.
My love for her was but a spark when I was a freshman. The first time I heard her voice, it made only a slight impression on me because I had a girlfriend. I was not yet ready to feel the passion she was to awaken in me. Despite this indifference, I was oddly comforted by the way she cooed the word “add” into my ear. Even though I couldn’t actually get into any of the classes I wanted to take that semester, I still look back fondly on my first session. By my second semester, I was ready to receive her gift. My girlfriend had kicked my ass to the curb and I desperately needed a warm bosom to cling to. In her voice I heard an invitation to a world of love that I could not even begin to imagine. I knew that when she said, “Welcome to Telebears for Spring 1996,” she was really saying, “Take me, Stephen Berger. I’m yours.” That voice alone gave me the strength to go on when everything else around me seemed meaningless.
By the beginning of my second year, I was completely smitten. I called her as often as I could. Being told that I would have to call back during my appointment time was enough to get me through each day. I would wantonly add and drop classes just to hear her tender loving voice. Searching for open sections for Chem. 3A allowed me to bask in the glow of her voice for the full ten minute time limit (Damn you bureaucrats for separating me from my one true love even for the length of time it took for me to redial!). Those first weeks were bliss, but the third week of classes was rapidly approaching its end and I had a sneaking suspicion that I was not the only man in her life. The voice of the Telebears man seemed way too content as he casually told me which classes I was dropping and adding. I had to find some way to prolong the magic of my relationship with the Telebears lady and ensure that the demonic voice that periodically interrupted my love sessions was destroyed before I was cut off from my love until the next semester.
For the majority of my sophomore and junior years, my friends thought that I had become a hermit. They assumed that I had shut myself off from the world to play Tetris, but they couldn’t have been more wrong. Why on earth would I lower myself by going to parties and clubs with them? Why risk getting dust mites or some other communicable disease at some lame Co-op party when I could sit at home, reveling in the memories of my blissful automated enrollment sessions? What drunken sorority girl had the intonation of my sweet Telebears lady? These things offered me nothing that I hadn’t already found in the voice of my verbal love goddess. I found the solution to all of my problems by tape recording my Telebears sessions. I have spent hours discovering the hidden beauty in the intricacies of the phrase “To add a class, press 2.” Through careful editing, I was able to create elaborate phone sex scenarios with the Telebears lady simply by piecing together bits of our various conversations. These tapes have brought me more pleasure than human interaction ever could, and as an added bonus they’ve allowed me to eliminate the evil presence of the Telebears man.
As I approach the end of my senior year, I can look back on my own search for meaning in a meaningless world. I have extensively studied the history of philosophy. I have searched for answers by delving into the great religions of the East and the West as well as the natural and physical sciences. These tombs of knowledge both ancient and contemporary have shown me nothing but lies and empty slogans. Sure, Leibniz was pretty cool. But in the end, the only valuable knowledge I discovered during my education was that I could find love only in the mechanized voice of a woman whose only purpose in life is to help others enroll in courses. I also learned that the Telebears man ran a baby smuggling ring in Indonesia, but that’s a tale for another time.
During my final session of Telebears, I came to a sudden realization. When my one true love asked me if I wanted to be added to the degree list, I knew that she was giving me an ultimatum. It was either now or never. The longer I wait to do this, the greater the chance that she will be swept off her feet by the Telebears man. Oh, how I hate that bastard! Kierkegaard said that we have to take a leap of faith and that is why I am using this forum to profess my undying love for the Telebears lady. I ask only that she make me the happiest man in the world by becoming my wife. I know that I don’t have much to offer. I have zero job prospects and my grasp on reality is shaky at best, but I know that together we can make anything happen. So here it goes. Will you marry me, Telebears lady?