Despite the dodgy sounding title, The Makeoutclub (MOC) is - I quote - 'NOT a dating/singles page, but a place to meet indie and hardcore kids that you have something in common with'. That's right, you're supposed to make platonic net friends on here, so don't even think about exchanging vows with Bob-The-Emo-Kid-from Minnessota. That brings us neatly round to the fact that MOC is brought to you by Americans for Americans. But they would never admit to that. As millions of chatroom addicts will testify, the www operates world-wide. Hence there is no stopping you from sending random emails to, say, the co-founder of the South Carolina branch of the Deftones' official fanclub. If that's not an enthralling thought, what is?
Talking about which, about 99% of the people on MOC are not only American, you will also find they're straight edge and in love with the ritual of posing in their bedrooms, guitar in hand. Rock on, kids. Better still, every single 'kid' on MOC comes with its own little message to the world. Think along the lines of 'Straight Edge is punk's last true rebellion'. Cool, erm, dude!
And you couldn't imagine how many people splash out on a copy of Photoshop these days...there's hardly a 'normal' picture to be found. It's all about arty montages of mohicans, rose tinted faces and the odd song lyric poking out from behind someone's head. Lovely. We're all feeling ever so creative, and MOC enables you to wipe out the bore in you in three easy steps: log onto site, fill in fictitious information, upload picture and - hey presto - you look twice as exciting as you actually are.
Even if the guitar you're posing with isn't yours, no one is ever going to find out. Unless you meet them. Which is very unlikely. Unless the straight edge 'kid' in question happens to holiday in Britain, you take them down the pub, discover that offering intoxicating beverages to a tea-totaller is a bad idea, wave good-bye and never hear from them again. Whoops.
You get the idea, MOC is amusing for about five seconds. If you have the urge to make new friends, you're better off down your local pub, a gig of your choice or - if you must - pouring over the Lonely Hearts column.