Sometimes I have needed a little distraction, felt the need again pulling me in a different direction. If you stick a curious man in two and a half rooms in north London, his mind is bound to wander, at least a little. I have never crossed a line. There were a couple of snogs at work parties – the joy of working in a company with over three hundred employees – but all were isolated episodes. Then when cybering got big, that kept me entertained for a while. Ruth always goes to bed so early. But after a while I got bored of typing, and live-camming with her there next door in the bedroom was out of the question. And so dating sites seemed a more satisfying way to tend to my urges. I really rarely met up with them. All I wanted was to talk, for them to talk to me, nothing perverted. I think to begin with my plan was to talk it all out of my system. I did for a bit. Then there were a few, no-strings-attached flings and a couple of coincidences: a girl who worked really close to my office and a nymphomaniac who practically stalked me. Once I developed a crush on the receptionist at work, but that didn’t really go anywhere. A couple of times I couldn’t say no, but I didn’t pursue them. At night I still find myself pouring my heart into the inboxes of good-looking strangers from company websites or swiping through Tinder profiles within a five-mile radius until there are no more matches available. I’m just looking for some fucking appreciation, you know? I need to keep myself busy. And technology has made it easy. Who am I hurting?