Too much information

Mavis has very quickly developed into my most successful internet dalliance. In the 12 days since my first email, we must have exchanged 400 texts, emails and instant chat messages. Almost every evening that we have both been at home, we have been 'talking' all night and well into the early hours.

Last Wednesday was the day things started to get particularly intense. I returned from a night out at about 01.15 and logged on to Dating Direct to see whether Mavis had been in touch. She had sent me a couple of emails earlier in the evening. I read them and decided to send her my mobile number. Within 10 minutes, Mavis had emailed and texted me. She had been clearly waiting for me to get home.

The following night, we exchanged probably 80 messages. Mavis told me that she had recently come out of a two-year relationship during which they had only slept together three times. She said she was dying for some physical intimacy (in her profile, she had said said that she was looking to do some 'cavorting'; I have probably looked at 1,000 online profiles over the past two years and have never seen such a blunt assertion). Mavis was growing on me all the time.

On Thursday night, she went home to Scotland to attend a friend's wedding. We exchanged a few messages during the evening. When I woke up on Friday morning, I had three messages on my phone from Mavis. On reading them, I discovered that her father was suffering from terminal cancer and that Mavis and her mum were, quite understandably, emotional wrecks whenever she went home.

It is often said that I am a good listener and that I am able to extract information that people had no intention of divulging - but that's generally face to face. Mavis admitted that she had no intention of telling me about her father - it had just slipped out. But she's more than happy to talk about every other apect of her life. I once woke up to find an email containing a stream of consciousness, from what school plays she appeared in to the fact that she once shook Pete Tong's hand. I know exactly where and what her tattoo is. I even know that - and excuse me for being so frank, but I'm trying to illustrate a point - that Mavis finds it easy to reach orgasm when she's on top (no, I didn't ask).

Mavis, meanwhile, thinks that I'm a graffiti artist called Dweezil, who lives in a treehouse in Epping Forest. She obviously doesn't believe it (at least I hope she doesn't), but I have revealed very little about myself beyond which she can read in my online profile.

The internet confers a level of intimacy and openness that would take months to build in the real world. As a consequence, it takes a lot of the fun out of getting to know someone new. It also takes away the air of mystique (which, unlike Mavis, I am keen to retain). I have arranged to meet Mavis on Saturday week. But I'm not looking forward to it as much as I was a few days ago. Familiarity does not necessarily breed content, but it certainly removes the frisson.