The Blurt, Part 2

I'm afraid this is going to be very drawn out... I am experimenting with writing stories... from beginning to end.

You’ve got to love Stalkbook, I mean Facebook. Of course, as in any modern day romance, the next step was to become Facebook friends. I can’t remember now who made the first move, but it was made, and we became Firm Facebook Friends (there is such a thing, surely?) with the clickety-click of a mouse. Easy. Allowing sneaky visits into people's profiles. I swear, Facebook's by-line should be: 'Facebook: making voyeurism socially acceptable'.

A week or two later, on popping into Facebook for a browse (read: voyeur session, and some Scrabble moves - I'm addicted), there it was... a message. Light-hearted, bringing up the theatre idea again, and possibly another picnic. And written well. Ten Shiny points. I have a thing about words, and writing. Send me a message that has ‘2’ for ‘to’ or ‘da’ for ‘the’ and you will find yourself struck off my Christmas card list. Well, you would be, if I had one.

I was pleased. Until I discovered the play we had discussed and were both keen to see was not on in The City Beneath the Mountain, but only in The Big Smoke. Damn. It was too soon, however, to suggest a weekend away, of course, snigger. For the next two weeks, there was some banter back and forth on Stalkbook, and vague suggestions of meeting up, but no concrete plan was made.

Then a ‘meet for drinks after work’-type plan was made with Pop (of the birthday in the park). A bunch of us were meeting, but I couldn’t quite keep the little twinge of excitement out of my tummy that The Person was coming along too. Remember, at this point, we’d only met once and it was just a maybe-we’ll-be-friends thing.

It was a fun night.