There appears to be a crucial flaw with your otherwise excellent networking website. Despite numerous friend requests over the last three months and watching over the mini feed display on my profile like a hawk, I’m still yet to receive confirmation that I am friends with xxx (name removed for legal reasons).
Not that I need a computer screen to verify my friendship with xxx. That would be ridiculous, because technically we’re not friends. Our bond runs much deeper than that. I think you’ll find that the three and a half minute conversation we shared in the queue at the taxi rank will testify clearly to that.
Having not seen each other since that unforgettable April night, the opportunity to act upon our animal desires for each other has been most cruelly delayed. It is only a matter of time, but your sloth like approach to what I imagine would be a basic computer generated administrative task wears my patience thin.
Would you deprive me access to xxx’s photographs, which serve as hundreds of visual clues to xxx’s address. Well, it appears that you would. And what sort of backward draconian world do we live in if a man cannot salivate at xxx in a bikini during her all inclusive fortnight in Cancun?
Well, it might be the world you choose to inhabit, Facebook, but let me tell you, it isn’t mine. And thank goodness, otherwise I wouldn’t have discovered, through much diligent covert research that xxx works for a firm of solicitors in Basingstoke. And although xxx has yet to return the five messages I've left on her voicemail since last Tuesday, I know it's only a matter of time. Afterall, the world of solicitors is a very busy world. Something that perhaps you should take note of, Facebook.
I'll remind you that it is you that needs me, not vice versa. I would prefer to see xxx's photographs via the conventional way, but when I'm forced to break into her house to firstly find those pictures and then parade around her lounge in her best lingerie, I will be placing the blame firmly at your door.