It was a hot, boring day in July, 2003, when I was considering quitting my lousy newspaper job and going full-time freelance, when I came upon Sarah Hepola’s hilarious and alarming ”The Key to a Successful Freelance Career.” It did not (and nor did it intend to) convince me that freelancing was the way to go — and although I’d soon forget that lesson and quit my job for freelancing anyway, the story stuck with me, and so did her name. It became one of those bylines I took notice of: If I happen upon ”Sarah Hepola” atop a story, I’ll generally read what comes after. I don’t know anything about her and don’t go Googling for her latest work, but then, nor do I seek out N.R. Kleinfeld, and yet I’ve read a ton of his work, too. And once you’ve read enough of someone’s work, and become familiar enough with their name, you start to feel like you get to know them — not really, of course, but just with that kind of casual familiarity, like all those people you said “hi” to in college but never actually stopped to chat with.

And then one of them takes their shirt off for you, and puts their boobs up in your face. Hey there!

Luckily, it wasn’t N.R. Today I followed a The Morning News link to “Busting Out,” a funny, thoughtful piece Sarah wrote for Salon about her apparently enormous boobs, and her quest for self-acceptance and a fitting bra. Had I not recognized the byline atop this piece, it would have just been an entertaining read, and an insight into large-breasted women. But now I feel a little weird. Creepy, really. Now I feel like I’ve stalked someone on the Internet, and unearthed naked pictures of them. Oh, Sarah. This is awkward. Our relationship is moving faster than expected. What will we say in the morning?