After several months of persuading by those incessant emails screaming "I've added you as a friend on facebook", I have finally relented. And it is an amazing world of facebook I have discovered. 19 friends and counting.

During the course of the day at work, Pants Wearing PA and I hop on at our respective desks and moan to each about how bored we are:
Swell Mademoiselle [current status] is wishing she had called in sick today.
Pants Wearing PA [status] is also wishing she had chucked a sickie.

At times the connection at Rather Large Bank fails us. Then a spate of
"I can't LOG ON!"
"Phew! Thought it was just me!"
"Crap! We have to resort to Lotus Notes!"
bounce back and forth.

During my lunch break at the pilates studio the other day (a recently ventured activity in an attempt to make a stunning entrance as a bridesmaid next year), my face was booked by the receptionist. He is one of those spunky new age types that smelled of ylang ylang. A mass of politically correct organically knitted green sweater that took down my details as I got sucked in for a ten session pass.

"Can I get your email? You know, just in case we have to change class schedules."

"Yep. It's ___@gmail.com."

"Gmail? That's the way to go. Isn't it the best?" Green ylang ylang man approved in his Brunswick Street cool manner. "Wait. Have you got facebook as well?!"

I rushed back to the office, logged onto facebook for the umpteenth time that day and changed the security settings on my account.

The most surprising thing of 2004 has been my newfound friendship with the Mallavian Whiz. For a large part of my undergrad years, he has been a mere speckle on my radar; I noticed him, I thought he was slightly odd and I never really acknowledged his presence except to poke fun at his oddness.

It wasn’t until this year that I actually began to talk to the MW. And it wasn’t until recently that the MW and I started to converse about things other than Stochastic Calculus. I am ashamed to admit that I only started talking to him because I needed help with assignments that I couldn’t figure out on my own.

Now upon closer acquaintance, I feel like a male lead in a teen comedy. I am Freddie Prinze Jr., who suddenly realises that some Hilary Duff or similar character is quite interesting behind a façade of Mallavian Calculus.

Before I get any further, I should note that the MW and I are not about to conclude the chapter with an ending worthy of a teen comedy. Don’t expect any sentimental violin solos accompanying the MW sashaying down the stairs of his parents’ house in a slinky prom dress with me ready to tie a corsage on his wrist.

The MW thinks I am quite mad. The other day we were discussing the constant bickering between China and Taiwan. I likened it to a couple experiencing a bad break up that has lasted over fifty years.

“The thing is, MW, if you really love someone, you should set them free,” I said, jokingly.

The MW, being the serious man that he is, was unimpressed and speechless. I don’t think my likening him to Hilary Duff will be of any comfort either.