Since the dawn of Xanga I have been a connoisseur of Internet boyfriends. Nothing risqué, just someone you randomly meet through a friend of friend’s friends list who likes all the same bands as you and has a great profile picture. Someone to chat with into the wee hours of the morning and say sweet things to like “I wish I could drive to Milwaukee right now and cuddle with you!” or “Today I heard a Blink-182 song and thought of you.”

Internet relationships are ideal for a non-committal type like myself. It exists when you are online and suddenly disappears when you shut your laptop.

Unfortunately, even these unrealistic love connections have their expiration dates. You both start to grow apart, he loves a real life girl and you recently got NetFlix, and before you know it you are writing a wall comment that begins with “We need to talk...”

There always has to be that awkward moment of ending something that never really started. But a new social networking Web site has the answer to all of your uncomfortable Internet rejection problems. On Chatroulette, a chat room with audio and video capabilities, one click of the “Next” button, otherwise known as the F9 key, eliminates all evidence of the relationship and suddenly it’s like you never met.

Chances are if you have heard of Chatroulette you have also heard of its seedy nature. Sure, a nauseatingly large portion of Chatroulette participants are little more — uh, revealing — than I would like them to be, but every F9 in awhile I meet someone who is worth talking to and possibly friending on the ol’ Facebook.

Initially, I only chatrouletted in group settings but the instant attention from complete strangers was just too intoxicating to wait for Friday and Saturday nights. One Monday night my years of practicing facial expressions in the mirror paid off, I met my first Chatroulette boyfriend, Jake from Liverpool.

You are judging me right now, I can feel it, but wait till you get showered with compliments from someone who sounds like the fifth member of the Beatles and then you can wag your finger at me all you like. Unlike those questionable AOL chatrooms of the ’90s, I could see him and therefore knew that he wasn’t a 40-year-old in his basement somewhere outside of Reno.

Here is the best part: there are more than 20,000 people on Chatroulette at all times, and at least 30 percent of those people are clothed and ready to be your next Chatroulette love affair. After Jake from Liverpool it was David from Holland, then Rob from Glasgow and every once in a while I would keep it stateside with Tim from Colorado or Sergeo and Frankie from Florida.

My Internet little black book went international over night and I couldn’t be happier. I have to be honest, girls are a minority on Chatroulette, and that gives me an advantage, except when you are a couple minutes into a conversation and some guy from Virginia asks when you plan on getting rid of your shirt.

But chin up girlfriend, you have that next button on your side and after you tell him exactly what he can do with himself — his ass is grass.

I should probably try to kick my Chatroulette addiction, but that requires me to have actual human contact with the opposite sex that doesn’t result in me severely offending them. Somehow my social skills translate better via web-cam. This might be a sign of sad, creepy things to come for my social life but c’est la vie. I think I have reached my quota of nights at Louie’s Too anyway. And at least on Chatroulette I get to listen to my own well-crafted Pandora stations instead of that insufferable bar jukebox.

I am certain that it won’t be me and my MacBook forever. Soon enough all of my dreams will come true and one of my Internet boyfriends will show up on my doorstep, all 4 feet and 11 inches of him.