Written by Doug – the northlondonhippy

I’ll Never Tell (1986)

Of the many encounters I had from the pre-internet in the 1980s, this is by far the weirdest. You might not believe it, but I swear to you it’s true. 

One of the first things Lisa told me about herself during our first online conversation is that she is constantly mistaken for a very famous actress while out in public. She said she looked so much like this actress, the intrusions from members of the public were constant, and she didn’t like going out because of it.

We’d been chatting, and flirting on CompuServe, the largest online community in America at the time. Being online was still quite a niche pastime in the mid 80s, but I had been online for a couple of years at this point, and had met lots of people. My new friend was a little newer to this sort of thing. 

She sounded great, she lived in Manhattan, and was around my age. She told me her job was boring, and not worth talking about, even when I pressed her for more info. She seemed sweet, and she seemed into me. 

I’m a better writer, than I am a conversationalist, so for me chatting online was a bonus, and I usually made a decent impression. Around this time (late 1986 I think, November or December), I was still studying film & TV at New York University, while getting occasional freelance work from MTV. She liked that. 

The actress she said she looked exactly like was particularly popular in the 1980s. One film she was in, one of her earlier roles, caught my attention when I screened it on HBO. I had a little crush on the actress, so the fact that she said she was her double, intrigued me. This actress also starred in one of the most popular, and trendiest films of the middle of the decade.

Remember, the pre-internet was text-based only. There was no photo swapping, or video calls. The height of intimacy at this point, short of meeting, was to exchange landline numbers, which we eventually did.  We spoke for hours, about everything, and anything. We really clicked. 

She wanted to meet me, but she didn’t want to meet in a bar, or restaurant, as she said we would be constantly interrupted by people mistaking her for that famous actress. She didn’t want to invite me to her place. And she didn’t want to come to my place all the way in Hoboken either.  It was a bit of quandary, because after chatting online, and on the telephone for a few weeks, I really wanted to meet her too. 

I came up with a solution. Someone I knew had a ground floor, studio apartment in the West Village, just off Bleeker Street. He worked during the day, so I asked if I could use his place for an afternoon coffee date. He agreed, loaned me his spare keys, and I arranged for her to meet me there a few days later. 

I arrived a bit early, with some coffee, and some fresh cookies. His place was fairly tidy, and presentable. As it was a studio, it had a futon, which was in the upright, sofa position. Everything was respectable. 

I had some weed with me too, because back then I always had weed with me. She knew I smoked regularly, and she said she occasionally did too, so it was all cool. 

I was nervous while I was waiting, so I sparked up a J, as I was sitting on the futon. She was right on time, the intercom rang, and I buzzed her in through the front door. 

I met her in the hallway, and I was immediately taken aback. She was stunning. And she didn’t just look like this famous actress. I was immediately 99% sure that she was that famous actress. Internally, I attempted to convince myself I was imagining things, but deep down I knew I wasn’t. It was actually her. 

I tried to hide it, but I’m sure she picked up on my stunned reaction. I invited her inside my friend’s apartment. 

When we spoke on the telephone, I also thought I was imagining things, when I realised she sounded a bit like this famous actress. I didn’t mention it, since it seemed like such a sore subject. If anything, I disregarded it, and laughed at myself for thinking something so silly. Clearly it wasn’t so silly after all.

When she didn’t hug me as we first met, I already knew it was going badly. She had said on the telephone that as soon as we were together, she was going to “hug the stuffing out of me”. She said it more than once, but when the opportunity presented itself, there was no hug. 

I could tell she was disappointed with my looks. She didn’t really try to hide it. The warm, kind person from the online chats, and telephone, didn’t seem to arrive with her. She was cold. I adjourned to the kitchen to make a couple of coffees, and put the cookies on a plate.

While in the kitchen, I thought about my options. At this point, I was certain I had an extremely famous, popular, and drop-dead gorgeous actress waiting for a coffee in the other room. I also knew she was pretending not to be this famous actress, and had been playing at this weird ruse since our first online conversation.

And I also knew I fancied the hell out of her. If you asked me for a list of “dream celebrity girlfriends of the 1980s”, she would have been in the top three. 

I was not intellectually, nor emotionally equipped to navigate this awkward situation. I was so out of my depth, it was laughable. And I could tell now that she met me, that she was just not that into me.

I returned to the main room, with a couple of coffees, and the cookies. She had turned on the television, it was some bullshit on Oprah Winfrey, I don’t remember the topic. She was completely invested in whatever it was, to the point of ignoring me while she sipped her coffee, and nibbled a cookie. 

I tried to make conversation, but she literally shushed me, so she could listen to Oprah. It wasn’t just going badly; our intimate, romantic coffee date was a total disaster. She made me feel like a total piece of shit with her rudeness. 

She finished her coffee, said it was nice to meet me, but it wasn’t going to work out, and she said she was going to go on her way. I didn’t try to stop her, I was kind of lost for words. 

As she was walking out the door, I said something along the lines of, “Be honest you’re [name of famous actress], aren’t you? You might as well admit it. You don’t just look like her, you are her!”

She turned back, looked me sternly in my eyes, and shouted, “No! And don’t you dare tell anyone that I am, either!”. And with that, she was out the front door, and out of my life. Her “don’t you dare” admonishment only further convinced me of her identity. Don’t. You. Dare. 

And that was that, it ended in romantic disappointment for both of us. I didn’t end up with a famous celebrity girlfriend, or even a look-a-like. I didn’t end up with anyone after this encounter, just a hard knock to my already fairly fragile self-esteem. I never contacted her again, and obviously she didn’t stay in touch with me. 

It didn’t deter me from meeting other people from the pre-internet, but it did leave a sour taste in my mouth. I have not thought about this incident in like, forever. I tried to put it out of my mind. 

This actress still works, though she is not as prolific as she once was. For years after we met, whenever I would see her in something, I would remember our meeting. Over the years, that started to fade, and I hadn’t thought about this encounter in a very long time. It’s only because I’ve been poking around in my memories of this period in my life, that this one floated up to the surface. I told you it was a weird story.

I know what you want to know. I know what anyone who reads this would want to know. It’s fairly obvious, isn’t it? You want to know who the famous actress is. It’s only natural to want to know such a basic fact. 

This happened over 35 years ago, I certainly don’t hold a grudge. I’m way above, and beyond that now. That would be the only reason to name, and shame her today. I’m not going to do it. I’ll never tell. Her identity stays a secret. I’m taking it with me to the grave. I hope she had a good life. I think I did alright myself. 

The only person I have ever shared this story with until now, was the guy who loaned me his studio flat for the meeting. He was skeptical at first, but in the end he believed me. What convinced him was her entitled attitude when we met. 

But to me, that’s not the convincing detail, though it doesn’t hurt. For me, if I was hearing this story, what would convince me is the amount of effort she put into building the foundation of her lie. It started during our first online chat, when we exchanged written physical descriptions. I don’t think I was the first person to play this game with her. I don’t think I was the first one to lose that game, either. 

If I’m playing amateur shrink, I’d say she struggled with her early fame, and thought anyone attracted to her, was attracted by her celebrity, and success. She wanted to meet as a nobody, and have someone fall in love with her for her personality. I was definitely sliding in that direction, right up until we met. She adored my personality, until she saw me, and then she didn’t like my looks. That’s how it goes sometimes with blind dates. 

Over the years, my 99% certainty has notched up to 100%. Yes, I am certain, and sure it was her. It was my most intimate brush with celebrity, and we didn’t even make physical contact. I used to wonder what my life would have been like, if our meeting went differently, but that’s a fool’s errand. It was what it was. 

You can believe me, or not believe me, it’s up to you, but I hope you enjoyed this odd tale from the pre-internet.

The End

If you enjoyed that, why not check out the rest of the series. Parts 1, 2, and 3 if you haven’t already.

Or you could read my four part series about working at MTV in the mid 80s, called MTV Redux.

It’s all part of my “Sex, Drugs, and Rock & Roll Collection” – a series of loosely connected pieces, all written in a 5 week period.

There’s even a bonus short story, that might blow your mind.

And if you’ve already read MTV Redux, why not check out Hippy Highlights – a curated list of pieces designed to entertain, inform, and amuse you. So many choices!

(All words © Copyright 2023 – Doug – the northlondonhippy. All rights reserved)