Interweb

Blakeborough

Now, I'm never one to speak ill of the internet, and specifically email, but of late I've began to notice that for me it's becoming somewhat like that spinster aunt that keeps turning up on a Thursday. I mean, you love her, and you know that she's very clever and inciteful and occasionally has something genuinely funny to say, but sometimes you really do wish that Mr Handsofftheinternet.org from next door would take her out for a nice meal and a bottle of wine and make her loosen up a little before she snuffs it altogether.
By this point you're probably wondering what the beejesus am I going on about, but I'll explain. Much like my fabled (and fictional) lonely aunt, I feel an obligation to the internet. I need to contact her at least once a day just to check she hasn't turned on the gas and shut all the windows, but when I do, I'm assaulted by a barrage of guilt- usually by way of my inbox- from people I'm barely related to, someone I saw once in Sainsbury's and a rather sad overweight man (who shall remain nameless) who took a shine to me at work. I don't reply to these people, yet they keep coming back, and although I do feel bad for quitely shunning them (much as I feel bad for putting auntie dear in the back yard with the lights off and the curtains shut) I really don't know who the majority of them are or why they are contacting me.
"What a bitter old moo." I'm sure you're thinking; "At least people are contacting you. Don't be so bloody ungrateful." Well I'm sorry. Of course it's nice to feel wanted, but I'm sure you too have also experienced similar guilt for not reacting to a message from someone who seems to know who you are, whereas you wouldn't know them from Adam.

And it is in this way that my dubious analogy- which at first I wasn't sure would work- comes together at last. I appreciate the attention of my metaphorical aunt, I love the feeling that in some small way I'm popular for at least three minutes of the day, but I really wish that someone who could fully appreciate the charms of anonymous emails would take her off my hands.

Having said all this, if she did stop visiting and suddenly became offline, I'd miss the hours and hours a week we spend together looking at jokes, doing work, watching porn and generally interacting with the outside world by proxy. I sometimes wonder whether the seemingly natural addiction/obligation to the internet worries anyone else...or if in fact it's just me.