Him, Me, and the Internet


Him, Me, and the Internet

Oh, the thrill of a new relationship; constant butterflies and nerves.  The thrill of learning how he kisses (amazingly), learning what kind of music speaks to him (anything in a 3/4 time signature), and learning what annoys him (waiting for things).  There has been late night conversations and early morning gingerbread coffee in his busted up college mug.  Swoon. Then, in the whirlwind and excitement, you discover he spent an early Sunday morning reading through 6 months of your blog archives.  Well, crap. Hi new boy, allow me to introduce you to every feeling I’ve had in the past 2 years.   Sigh.

Blogging used to be a private thing.  I’m fairly sure that I went months at first where the only person who was reading anything I wrote was my Grams (Hi Grams, you tech savvy woman, you).

Sometime over the past year, my online and offline life started converging into this definite shade of gray.  My real life friends found out I had a blog and some even started reading it. (Suddenly they understood why I always have my camera to document our lives.)  Then, I started forging relationships with bloggers and that blew my cover wide open.

Then, I took friendships forged though blogging, twitter and gChat and began meeting bloggy friends in real life and I love them more than I ever imagined I would, and then “blogging friend” becomes “friend”.  Blog friends become regular friends… and the dividing line between my online life and my real life disappears.

To date me, you have to be cool with the whole “internet thing”.

Writing is who I am.  This writing is me, not all of me, but it’s without a doubt accurate; the mess, the happy, the insecure, and the affirming.  So, I stopped freaking out about what Mr. A might have found in my archives.  If he wants to spend {cough} hours reading through my archives and STILL can’t wait to spend time with me, then maybe the whole archive reading thing isn’t bad at all.

He has seen a glimpse of how I process things.  He’s also fairly aware now that dating me, means he is getting written about.  Oooooops.

Hi Mr. A, welcome to the Internet.


[photo credit:  CarbonNYC]

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