Google Schmoogle

I am an avid Googler and I will admit to a sneaky little Google on any man I'm about to date. I don't see it as being a stalker as some of my less Googling friends do.

It is more a sort of security measure.

A girl can never be too careful these days, and I'd prefer to know if he's a psychotic axe wielding murderer.
Or spends his days posting on some wanky S & M site.
Or if he incites racial hatred. Or is homophobic. Or bigoted.
Or secretly married, gay or a philandering toerag.

A brief glance through the posts can tell you loads. I don't have the time nor the inclination to read all the results. Just a quick sneaky peek. Not stalker like behaviour at all, is it?


I've even got the hand signs for Googling, a sort of aerial typing action with both hands. Like air guitar, but with a keyboard.

On Saturday talking to a friend about oh, something I can't quite recall at this moment.
So I turn to him and say

"You can always, you know… "

Cue hand gesticulation.

He quite rightly looked blank; as I also have a habit of not completely finishing sentences instead letting the words trail off in the vain hope you've caught enough of the conversation to either guess what I'm about to say or finish the sentence for me.

He blinks at me. Expecting a finish.

"...Google!" I say finally.

So when my gorgeous friend Kenny, all bright eyed says he has the most fabulous man for me, my first instinct is of course to sneak a little Google. Which I would do, but Kenny has set me a dare.

Dared me *not* to Google him.

And here I am at work, fingers poised over keyboard. I know his name. I know he's an actor. And I know what West End play he has just finished.

It is so overwhelmingly tempting... I almost can't stand it.