A genuine, real-life doctor (complete with fantasy white coat and stethoscope) has contacted me on IE. This is, no doubt, a very good thing. Especially since he is hella cute, and I'm so sexually frustrated now that I am probably more adept at peeling the labels off beer bottles than the machines programmed to do so at recycling plants (in all seriousness, Hubby's friend made a comment about this the other day in the pub during post-football celebrations. I had made a pile about a foot high of branded foil. Hubby thought it was hilarious. Yeah. LOL at yourself, sweetheart.)
Anyway...have arranged to chat later this evening with him online. Hopefully he won't resort to badly punctuated come-ons and dubiously-capitalised, playground references to his genetial. I don't mind talking dirty, I just need said dirty talk to be grammatically correct.
I'm sure this will conjur up an image of some hoity-toity middle-aged English teacher, marking her lovers sexual ramblings with some virtual red pen....
...and that is a pretty accurate image of me. Will keep you posted, conrades!