Because we can

With the new laptop the quality of my life has improved exponentially. Since this one doesn't overheat, those first degree burns, previously permanent features on my thighs have actually disappeared. I have 2 more hours a day since this one doesn't require 45 minutes to power up, only to encounter a problem as a result of which it will need to close- "sorry for the inconvenience". 

Now that I have a laptop that actually does what it's supposed to (fully functional keyboard, working mouse, glitch-free Internet connection, programs that actually work - allowing me to dabble with such previously exotic features such as PDF and Powerpoint) I've finally been able to rejoin the splendid world of Skype. With sound and all! 

This means that I can talk to The Man. And see him too! So far I've managed to find an excuse not to plug in my webcam. See, since we last saw each other, he's lost,like, 6 kilos. Nothing for him to worry about though, I've found them. Every single kilo... And have, instead, lost most of my confidence and dignity.

While I know I've been having some serious doubts about the future of this so called relationship and have been trying to recruit the right side of my brain to cooperate with me in finding a sensible solution, the moment I saw his sorry mug on my computer screen I was grinning from ear to ear like a right retard (all the more reason not to use the webcam- there's no way the even the entire laptop screen could accommodate all of my squirrel-like cheeks). 

I can't wait to see him. To touch him. To hold him. To laugh with him. And at him. To wind him up. To be his.

But now, with Skype, comes yet another etiquette dilemma courtesy of era of digital communication. Remember when I told you how The Man and Junior, the Liverpool fan I once left The Man for, shared the same first name?  Now I've been contacted on the Skype by yet another guy by the same name. He's about The Man's age and is apparently Welsh, like Junior. Judging by the fancily decorated uniform he's wearing in his profile picture he's also an army officer, like my Dad.

I don't know how these people find me. But no matter how tempting it might be (maybe he'd combine the best qualities of both of the previous two namesakes?) I think I'll ignore his contact request. I mean, in reality he's probably one of the following:

1. yet another Nigerian gold-digger, posing as a wounded US marine, conning gullible women out of their life savings (whoah- wouldn't he be in for a nasty surprise- seeing how I don't have any...!)
2. a 13-year-old socially awkward horny nerd with nothing better to do, desperate to see any boobs, even if just on Skype
3. a cross-dressing serial killing rapist stalking for his (her?)  next victim...?