I was only about 50 years old when I was forced to face the beast. It started innocently enough in the guise of a simple Christmas present for my daughter Julia; a computer (finally!) required to cement her status as a freshman in high school.

The bargain price I paid for the new gadget fetched a soon-to-be-obsolete bunch of features but, hey, my little freshman complain? Who was I kidding?

Within an hour, smelling whiffs of dragon breath, I found myself back in the computer store picking up a little extra memory and, well, maybe a few other tiny upgrades. So what if I didn't know RAM from REM? I could learn! I shuddered at the thought of my only child lost in the wilds of cyberspace without enough memory to get back. Armed with reading glasses and my dusty toolbox I gutted the beast, plundering it for treasures of drives and modems, memory and processors, motherboard and cards.

Luckily my child was away for the week. Only after it was over did I realize that I, a never-say- die, technophobe, who had no clue how to work a fax machine, had stumbled headfirst into the nineties. I basked in the cyberfountain of e-youth.

Within a month, the family wars began. Julia had this annoying habit of wanting to kick me off the computer just when I was in the middle of a promising chat with some eligible gent. She even resorted to trying to make me feel guilty, calling it her computer which was supposed to be for her homework. So selfish!

I began going online at 5 a.m. since she did not get up until 6:30. An hour and a half of freedom to surf the regions of e-mail and car sales, angels and airplane tickets, biography and poetry...not to mention finance and flirting - ah my sweet web heaven!

True, my internet interludes were truncated by the shrill cries of my heartless offspring, aka the other user, demanding that I get offline and feed her or turn on the heat or some such. But if I was lucky, and I frequently was, she wouldn't have that much homework and I'd take up where I left off, a little later that evening.

It came to a head when Julia announced that she had some reports to research and required exclusive computer rights for an entire week. Seven days offline!! My stomach churned, my heart palpitated and I struggled for breath. She would not negotiate or be bribed. So I cried.

I pointed out to her that she was taking away my diet aid, I warned her how much weight I might gain if I fell back to snacking instead of chatting. In desperation, I offered to help with her reports, but she would have none of it.

Julia reminded me that the last time I offered to help, we found ourselves swept away on the river of never-ending links. She told me I was an online junkie and could not resist any button that stated, implied or promised anything at all if I would just "click here."

She informed me that members of my Buddy list were interrupting her, giving her arcane references, business ideas or dating information to pass along to me. In brief, she had had it. In her not so humble opinion, it was time for me to go cold turkey and wrestle with my e-dragon, get professional help, get my own computer, or all of the above.

I took to introspection and desperately sought the opinions of others. Whatever unmet needs my relationship with the internet was filling surely could be dealt with offline to some extent, couldn't they?

I surveyed my pre-internet friends. (It didn't take that long to remember how to punch the numbers on the phone keypad). Okay. Some were irritatingly direct in their answers. They had been concerned, even worried about me. They had missed me. They wondered if I was eating enough, that sort of thing. I got the message.

Happily I seem to be striking a better balance now between my online and offline lives. I am in a self-created program to integrate the two and all seems hopeful. So to all techno-timid folk, I highly recommend getting a computer and facing the dragon.

The internet is a vast library, a window to the world. It is also a wonderful way to meet people for friendship, business, debates and delights.

Once you are hooked up, there are these things called Search Engines (with cute names like Yahoo! and Excite) and all you have to do is think of something you want to investigate, type it in the little search window, click and you're off!

You can learn about how to make use of computers, find French poetry, or fix your dishwasher; have a loving relationship, make money, you name it. But in your enthusiasm and discovery, remember the ones who love you. Remember that a cyber-rose does not smell as sweet as a rose grown in your own garden. Yet.