I'm a firm believer that the secret of blogging is to write what you want. I guess it's the equivalent of that awful song that goes something like "dance like nobody's watching." In other words, don't give a shit.
That philosophy only goes so far, of course. There are things you shouldn't blog about. Where you work for one. Far smarter people than you or I have been fired for such indiscretions, even if they have gone on to find their true purpose in life and a much more enriched existence to boot. Sex is another. The minute you start blogging about sex, you become a sex site. Illnesses, how I spent my day (unless it's like, "I caught Bin Laden"), hum-drum, boring, "this is my life, want to take a look" crap is also verboten, unless you're just writing for your friends and not trying to find a larger audience. Navel gazing is okay when your friends have all seen your navel already and have come to grips with that particular abyss.
And then there's personal stuff, relationship stuff. I used to write stuff like that on here, when I first started blogging back in the Neolithic Age, when they shipped stone tablets to your cave for writing purposes. Some friends told me they hated to read that kind of stuff from me, mainly--I think--because it fell under the "poor, poor pitiful me" category (there may even be a post or two on this here blog that's titled that way). I'll try and make this one as painless as possible, but it is something I want to write about, so I'm just going to pretend no one is reading.
After a long hiatus, I actually met someone this past week, someone I actually LIKED. It was a rare occurrence, one of those planet-in-alignment type of things. She was smart, funny, down-to-earth, age AND height appropriate (that's like two cherries on the slot machine right there when you're my age and my height, folks), well-read, sarcastic, and even had a similar profession (in publishing, at least). I found her incredibly attractive.
Yeah, you've noticed the past tense. After a Sunday meeting and the agreement of more meetings to come, instead came the "phone call" outlining the dreaded "there's this other guy...I might have told you about him..." So, that's that. We have talked about pursuing a friendship and are still in touch (I think), but...we'll see.
I'm a firm believer that there's someone for everyone. I've met three such someones in my lifetime, three wonderful women who I would have--could have--should have--married if the circumstances were right. Of course, there was that little thing about them each being madly in love with someone else at the time, but you know...details, details. (And for the record: they're all three still dear, close friends, so I've got that going for me.) I've met a few others in the more recent past who I really liked and felt I clicked with, including this latest woman. I think at this age the search for "the one" ceases to exist and becomes more a search for "someone," but even that is tiring right now. I'll never say never, but this latest escapade makes me want to say "not right now, thanks."
So there you have it: me blogging like no one is reading. This won't happen often. Take it in or turn away scowling. Either way, I didn't write it for you. I wrote it for me.
