I do realise that the whole point of a news story is that it should be news. But I have to confess that this one about how GPs are being bombarded with amorous messages from patients via email, Facebook, Twitter et al really was news to me, and caused grave feelings of inadequacy. Because it’s never happened to me. Not once. The only thing I’ve ever pulled in surgery is an ingrowing toenail.
So it seems as though there’s a massive party going on that I haven’t been invited to. Why am I missing out? It can’t be my looks (check out the pic accompanying my blogs).
Maybe I’m overlooking subtle clues. Perhaps in that symptom list some women bring, between item 7 (‘flatulence’) and 9 (‘bad breath’) I somehow skim over item 8 (‘fancy a shag?’). Or it could be that I alienate potential oncomers with my refusal to prescribe – maybe the way to a woman’s heart is a course of antibiotics, though hopefully not azithromycin 1g stat.
Anyway, I tell a lie. It may not be a message of undying love, but I have just had my first ‘Friend’ request on Facebook. It was from a large, sweaty man to whom I generously gave a scrip for risperidone as an ‘urgent’ because he’d run right out, causing a flare up of his paranoid belief that everyone hates him. Obviously, I’ve declined.