On Honesty

So, I'm at a point where I'm not sure how much I do and do not want to share on this blog.

On the one hand, the whole point is honesty. And I am nothing if not brutally that. And I really feel no shame about revealing things of a rather personal nature about myself, I act like a freak on a regular basis so it's not as if I'm really attempting any semblance of normalcy. And of all the things I could talk about, weight loss and my issues are probably some of the most personal. I certainly wouldn't feel embarrassed sharing most the details of my various exploits.

What I'm considering, though, is my audience. I've shared this link with plenty of friends and family (HI DAD!), and they've passed it along. I'm just not too sure I need to share with them all the truth of my crystal meth addiction, secret black market baby farm and fetish for men dressed as Disney characters.

And for instance, I have dozens of no doubt fascinating words written about this new boy I am seeing. From the Internet. First of all, he's a ginger, and I just fucking LOVE me a hot ginger. It's a long-standing appreciation. We've had three dates and they just keep getting better---this past Friday was wine tasting on a hill overlooking Los Angeles at sunset, followed by meeting his friends at a bar. Then making out like teenagers for a good couple of hours during which he acted like a perfect gentleman. Smart, funny, attractive, has yet to reveal himself as a stealth asshole. *swoon*

But you know, he could read this, eventually, depending on how things go. Or he could have already found it using some Google-fu, though this I doubt (he did, however, friend me on Facebook, and I was not sure that he knew my last name). So maybe I don't want him to discover my ramblings over how to craft the perfect hilarious text message. Because while it's well known that women are cray cray, I don't need to put it in black and white for him to see. I am being zeeeen.

So for now, I will keep my trap mostly shut.

Except to say that the boy can kiss.