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Are you serious?

Yes, I am.

I agree that it’s silly that a 27-year-old woman has the hots for a few photos up on a profile, but I see it being far less silly than wanting to smooch on Brad Pitt or Angelina Jolie.

Unlike wanting a little Jolie-Pitt lovin’, mine isn’t so far-fetched. Tom and I are about the same age. We got our undergrad degrees in the same thing. I don’t find anything on his profile or in his interviews that indicates he’s a schmuck. And if nine out of ten dentists say chewing Trident after meals is a good thing, I’m pretty sure I can scrape up a similar endorsement saying that I’m also not a schmuck.

If he just happens to be the sort of guy who can comfortably carry on a conversation with a woman blessed with the gift of gab, there’s no telling.

Are you a stalker?

I’m not googling his home address, standing outside the MySpace offices, or leaving creepy notes on his car.

I’m just getting the word out that I’m interested in getting to know Tom.

Will we hit it off as friends, eventually date, or just continue as part of each other’s Extended Network? There’s no telling. I have no expectations.

Are you a gold digger?

Nope. I’ve got my own bankroll. It’s not a $6b empire, but I do fine thankyouverymuch.

Why don’t you just send him a message?

How many messages do you think Tom gets daily? From “OMG, UR 2 KEWL,” to “How do I change the colors of my page?” he’s got plenty to sift through.

Also, MySpace is his job. You don’t see him writing comments on people’s pages, posting those silly survey bulletins, or letting everyone know what his weekend plans are with an invite to tag along. I have no expectations for him/someone representing him to do anything more with the /tom site than to filter through the crap he’s sent, write the occasional blog or bulletin, pick up the viable improvement options, and keep the comments clean.

But isn’t Chicago far away from LA?

Yes, it is. But Chicago isn’t my home for too much longer. I’m from Texas, so these winters chill my bones a bit too much. After four years, I’ve given Chicago a fair shake. I love it for the few months it’s above 50 degrees, but the rest of the time I’m watching Law and Order reruns on TNT and eating copious amounts of carbs.

This is no way for a woman to live.

Come January 2008, after spending two extended (and warm!) months in Texas while getting to know my niece and nephew better (they were both born since I moved to Chicago), I’ll be heading to the sunny skies of LA. I’m lucky enough to have an employer who doesn’t care where I work from, so I’m going to take advantage of that perk and keep the sun on my bones.

What does Tom think about this?

I don’t know. If talked with him, I wouldn’t have this silly site.

In the interviews I’ve seen and read, he seems to have a sense of humor to know that I’m of no harm. If he finds this scary, I’m sure I’ll find out through one of those pesky cease and desist letters.