Even before I'd ever first left a size-11 digital footprint in cyberspace, I'd long been fascinated by the internet's power to bring people together.

I remember a colleague telling me how her sister had married someone she met through an internet dating service.

This was back in 1997, a good two years before I first booted up a browser.

I remember being weirdly intrigued by the concept of falling in love with someone you had never even met.

Ten years later, I realise, through reading other people's blogs, that such things are not uncommon. Nor are they weird.

In fact, I plan to meet my next wife through one of the many fine bridal services that the internet offers, such as russianbrides.com, or heysoldierboy.com/thailadies.html.
Someone also recommended another one, shemales.com, which I think is also about bringing women and men together, or something, but I haven't had time to check that one out yet.
But if anyone knows of dating sites specialising in Irish barmaids, or hot Italian chicks with machine guns, then I'd be quite keen to bookmark them for potential future use as well.

Anyway.

And while the art of sending letters is dying, the art of correspondence is not. Email encourages people who used to be crap at staying in touch, to send weekly or, god forbid, even daily, messages. And people tend to be more comfortable saying things in type than they are in person.

There's probably a beautiful song in all of that somewhere.

Of course, me being me, I've found a way to go and mongrel things up a bit.

But that's hardly surprising, seeing as I seem incapable of writing a love song without also talking about being smothered by a pillow in the same breath.

Anyway. Just in case you were wondering where this was all heading: prepare yourself for the latest drunken-hearted tune.

Click on the play arrow to listen.