Parting is such sweet sorrow in email romance

A hapless romantic has found his inner-most hopes, dreams and calamitous character misjudgments exposed across the virtual world.

If Joseph Dobbie had used the phone and got an answering machine, he would surely merely have left an invitation to coffee at Tate Modern, take it or leave it. Or if he'd had to hunt for pen and paper, the self-preservation gene would probably have kicked in before he poured out his heart to a stranger he'd met only fleetingly, once.

Instead Mr Dobbie, a web designer from Berkshire, poured his heart into an email to the woman he'd met at a party. He invited her to coffee at the gallery, but then, as he so aptly put it, decided "to throw caution to the wind".

Her smile, he wrote, was "the freshest of my special memories" - despite his apology for being drunk at the party. He was listening to his heart, he said, and it told him that she made "time stand still".

"If you are half as intelligent and aware as I believe you to be, I am sure that you will find what I have written, in the very least, sweet."

Well, up to a point. She forwarded the email to her sister, with the terse cover note: "I met this man on Saturday." Her sister felt the world should share Mr Dobbie's joy: her circle of friends forwarded it to their circles of friends. Within days he was getting hundreds of emails and calls from the US, Australia and South Africa.

Mr Dobbie insists that his life is not ruined and that he has no regrets. "I need somebody who is genuine, romantic and sincere and unafraid to be those things."

He has had to change his phone numbers to staunch the torrent of calls - and he still hasn't got a date.







Maev Kennedy
Tuesday July 25, 2006
Guardian Unlimited
Guardian Newspapers Limited 2006