Over the past six months, I’ve deleted more drafts of posts than I’ve published. I think I have to accept that I’m no longer a personal blogger. Why is that? Why am I no longer able to share my stories here when this is the place that once carried me through transition?
Mystery is interesting
Did I ever tell you the story about going on a few dates with The Blog Reader? It was in London when I only had a few months of blogging under my belt and it was easy to read through the entire archive in one sitting. The Blog Reader got to our first date and he was on the 7th date – having read my entire blog – and I was on the first.
I would start a story and he would start laughing and say, “That was so funny, I read about it on your blog.” I didn’t know what to tell him, because he knew me better than I knew him… or he thought he knew me better than I knew him. The beginning of the blog was a highly sanitized version of my life. Working and living with students, writing for my parents and colleagues – it wasn’t naked blogging, it was fully clothed with a ski-mask blogging.
We went out a couple more times. He criticized how I went through the British Museum (I wander, I don’t go chronologically) and that was the end of things.
Over the last 6-12 months, I find myself being attracted to men that use the social tools that I do, but not the ones that spill it all. Turns out that some mystery is good. A lot of mystery is better.
I’ve had men read this blog and decide, without meeting me, that I wasn’t for them. That the version I present