I don't work anymore, not in the task based sense of the word anyway; I don't do one thing, complete it then move to the next, graced with enough time, liberty and space to properly understand everything and so deal satisfactorily.

That's over. Last year's patterns. These days I speed-date, or that's how it seems. My worklife is a dazzling, driven world of promiscuous and endless contact after contact. Twenty minutes at most to get to know something, sum it up, find out what lights it's candles and what does n't, then concoct a response. And I have to commit! Often unwillingly, and to multiple partners as well. There's always another waiting in the queue angling to get my pulse racing, my cheeks flushed, and my poor heart a-twittering.

The difference with this form of speed dating is that I'm still left with making that awkward phone call or having to speak to people I really don't want to, nor can I decide not to see them either. They won't let go...