Chatroom Nation

I don't know this girl.
We've never actually met.
And yet, I find myself
wanting to fall asleep on the shoulder
of this girl I don't know during a Trans-Atlantic flight.
I find myself wanting this girl I've never met
to turn up unnannounced on my doorstep,
in tears, clutching a half-drunk bottle of red wine.
I find myself wanting to spend cold Sunday mornings
sat in bed with this girl I don't know, sipping hot sugary tea.
I find myself wanting to bake muffins with this girl I've never met.
I find myself wanting this girl I don't know
to paint my toe-nails with colourful varnish
and watch them slowly dry in the midday sun.
Is this right? Is this proper?
Is this, infact, deliberately foolhardy?
Perhaps we never will meet.
Perhaps that's as it should be.
Perhaps it's actually better that way.
And yet. And yet.
And yet.