And what I'd do to make him mine...

OK, I sort of cribbed the title from Burt Bacharach, and certain lines of that song go to the extreme ('my hands are shaking, don't let my heart be breaking, I need your love, I want your love...') but somehow when Dusty Springfield belts it out it seems perfectly reasonable. Not over-the-top at all. If not, she'll just die.....It's as simple as that.

When I started this journal of the inner machinations of my sometimes overactive mind it was never intended for general public consumption, which I am aware, is not obvious given that I published on the world wide web. But I did think it would sit snugly in an outer recess somewhere, gather a bit of cyber dust and disappear eventually into a search engines' skip for scrap.

I did not at any point consider the fact that Duz may read and inwardly digest the contents. It was not created due to a desire to plaster my feelings all over a screen for him to view in glorious technicolour. No, sir; that was most definitely not on the agenda.

So, I shall paint the picture.

I had a buoyant weekend, not in the nautical sense but owing to my elevated mood following a lengthy conversation with a journalist from the Sunday Times Style magazine on Friday afternoon. I am, by all accounts, newsworthy. Someone with a story to tell. Someone the great British public may be interested in. That said, given the level of achievement of many nouveau celebrities, it's not exactly a demanding standard to meet these days....

Bobbing about in buoyant fashion, I sent Duz a text message asking him how he felt about being famous. Naturally I'm expecting a surge of interest from the nationals sometime very soon, and being at the epicentre of the saga, he needed to be alerted to the fact that he may need to quickly learn the necessary techniques to dodge and fool the paparazzi. That's not even mentioning the hoards of mail he'll be getting asking, nay telling him to re-engage with his senses, hunt me down and to pull me to his manly chest in the manner of a latter-day Rhett Butler.

Of course, the message came back "I'd like to read it".

OK.

What now?

I had not bargained for this. A few friends reading it? Yes, and their ensuing messages of support were all welcomed.

Duz reading it? No. Not this side of this millennium, or the next, for that matter.

Then I was reminded of something a friend said a short while ago, "you can't say the wrong thing to the right person" Very insightful, and loaded with wisdom. Of course you can't; the right person will take it on board. Right?

I message him back "OK- here goes......" and the web link.

Silence.

More silence.

Then a bit more silence.

Actually, it was ten minutes to be fair, but you know how long those darned minutes can be at times.....

And then it came........"The best thing I've read in a long time x"

We talked a lot yesterday about everything that alludes to "us". We talked until 2am, which I don't really do these days, except at times of extreme longing and with a heart fit to burst.

Is he now adopting a more positive approach? Well, when asked "Are you going to make sure this has a happy ending?", he responded with "We can only hope...."

Oh come on Duz.... step up to the mark....this girl's in love with you (thanks again, Burt) Gotta love those lyrics....and you gotta love a man who doesn't mind you showing the world his bruises.