A wave of excitement greeted news that the new Bridget Jones book, due out in October, will be entitled Mad About the Boy.
Unless everyone’s favourite singleton has embarked on a new career as a Dinah Washington tribute, one presumes this means her quest for love is set to continue into Helen Fielding’s third instalment.
I was a little young to be a fan of the novels the first time round. I’ve seen the films, though – anyone with ITV2 could probably recite the script they show it so often – and plan to pick up a copy this autumn.
But I wonder how our Bridget will cope in the brave new world of the young single woman which I inhabit.
It has been 14 years since the last Bridget book was published. Times have changed.
When Bridget’s quest for love began in the late 90s, match-making was confined to smug marrieds positioning a pair of desperate mutual friends together at the table of a dinner party, or a meddling mother.
In modern times technology is our constant companion – eyes no longer meet across crowded bars.
Conversation is an archaic art. Why risk public rejection when you can signal your interest in someone by clicking a ‘Like’ button on Facebook and following them on Twitter?
We’re in a world where men who wouldn’t even manage a ‘hello’ in public can proposition in a private message. You can gauge the scale of your suitor’s interest just by the emoticons he uses in a message.
With new ways of communicating come new pitfalls, like the accidental text. You’ve had a wine, you feel that urge to tell your significant other just how much you fancy them, but you actually disrupted your nana’s viewing of Coronation Street with a 50 Shades-style lust-text.
Rumours are rife that Bridget will also be tackling the perils of internet dating.
I’ve yet to try it. Not sure ‘WLTM man with wardrobe of 1980s football hooligan, poetic sensitivity of Morrissey and raw, brooding masculinity of Eric Cantona in his Kung Fu kick prime fits in a specification. I’m pretty sure Bridget too will struggle with what is 90 per cent of the time an exercise in fending off weirdos who love to ‘cook’ and ‘travel’. Isn’t that just a roundabout way of saying you catch the 52 with a Tesco ready meal in tow?
Perhaps Bridge and I could set up a new service. I’m thinking impossiblematch.com...