Why I wear a loathing for Facebook on my ruby red lips

Facebook has clogged my computer.

The machine was always slow. Now it's moribund. It takes so long to open e-mails, I lose the will to live.

I blame my wife (naturally). She signed us up on Facebook. She thought it would be a good way of keeping in touch with our daughters in Scotland. Now we get dozens of messages from people we hardly know, all wanting to be our friends.

Well, excuse me, I don't want to be your friend. I've got real friends. I know that might surprise you, considering that I sound like a grumpy old codger.

OK, I haven't got many pals, but the ones I have I value. They in turn have friends. But would I want to be pals with my friends' chums? I don't think so.

However, this appears to be the premise on which Facebook is based. You become acquainted with your friends' friends.

Who needs cyber buddies? Not me. I have plenty of real people to talk to. I don't need to socialize on the Internet.

But I can see if you're a teenager or if you're in your 20s it might be handy for dating. And if you're a 30-something singleton or a leftover woman (what a horrible phrase) or if you're divorced or widowed, or socially isolated then, I can see the point.

I can also see I've painted myself into a corner on this one.

OK, I admit it. Facebook, which describes itself as a social "utility" (isn't that gas, water and electricity?) could have its uses.

My sister-in-law flew halfway around the world to meet her Facebook lover boy. She has red hair and blue eyes (a sure sign of madness). She also has a fiery temper and sanctimonious nature. Boy, what a combination. The pair of them got on like a house on fire for the first couple of days. Then his constant guitar strumming irritated her (it was his apartment, for God's sake).

Things went downhill from there. Eventually the guy got so overwrought he flipped his lid and had to be sectioned.

My point is: You don't know what you're letting yourself in for by Internet dating. An attractive young colleague of mine admitted she went on blind dates arranged over the Internet.

Why? Can't you meet someone at a party or through friends? A real person you can talk to, touch and smell? How evocative is a women's perfume or a man's aftershave?

Well, you're not going to get that kind of sensory feedback on Facebook.

Which reminds me. I picked up Men's Lipstick at Wu-Mart. Normally I'm not into cosmetics for men. I get the occasional bottle of aftershave at Christmas, which does me all year.

I do buy lip salve. The last lot I bought was in a pink tube. I thought nothing of it.

I applied the stuff (it was a perishing cold day) and went out to the shops. On the way back I met Alice, our English intern. We chatted. When I got back to our flat my wife screamed: "What happened to your lips? You look like a vampire!"

In the mirror I saw my gob was a red smear. My wife insisted I wash my face and while I did so she found my lip salve and flung it out the window. It had cost me 24 yuan ($4). You'd think Alice could have mentioned that I looked like a drag queen in mufti. But I suppose she was too polite.

My new lipstick is for "elegant men".

Well, that rules me out. The packet promises that the lipstick will give me a "beautiful glow and improve my intrinsic, youthful confidence".

Apparently men's lippie is in vogue and comes in different flavors. Mine is coconut. I wonder what else they have for men at the cosmetics counter a little blusher perhaps?