Well, not really.
Last night someone asked me to be really, really honest about why I am a sex-site drop out (note to self: title of next post is in the bag).
I hedged. I hemmed. I deflected. I lied.
Then I said:
Those people were not my friends.
Let me clarify:
Many were. No, many are. They are my friends. My family. The people I talk to daily if not weekly.
I love them all, which means I love many of you because many of you now watching came from 'there'.
You are a witty, intelligent bunch and I have learned so much from you. Thanks.
But you know me too well.
The truth is that I should have left that site when I fell in love with Chato. I didn't. Did that play a role in our 'where we are now' story? No, it did not.
I stayed because I had so much I thought I needed to say. In all honesty, I'm often so vague that most people probably didn't even know what I was talking about half the time.
But life was good. My blog supplemented me in many ways. Between love, work and regular old life, I was happy. Fulfilled.
Then Chato and I had the 'great Austin trip of 2010' and I was thrown for a loop. I had no fucking idea what to do next. I cried. I didn't eat. I doubted myself. What the hell was wrong with me? I didn't even know. I just knew that I wanted to write through it.
I tried my hand at dating and came away thinking perhaps I sort of suck at it on some level. But no worries, I still blogged through it. I just didn't name names. Maybe the truth was that I wasn't ready. My heart couldn't be in it. How could it, you know?
And then all hell broke out.
Everywhere I went, people told ME who I was seeing. How did they know? I'll tell you. One person. One person kept telling people everything I was up to, based on what she 'thought' was going on. It's like having a stalker, but better. Was she sharing the news because she cared about me? Nah, lol. If you ask her on a good day she will tell you she can't stand me.
Now, a stalker has no idea what you're really doing. A 'better than' thinks she's got you one-upped.
Cue the eye rolls.
One day, right after Paris, I called my friend and said: Enough. No Mas. I don't want to do this anymore. This blogging thing. I will go to Vegas. Then I never want to see most of those people again. Why? They are not our friends. Or science projects. They don't care if I am happy or sad. Working or not. Keeping to my training schedule or sitting on my couch. They care about silly things like 'top blogger' and who is sleeping with who this week.
They just don't care about anything but themselves. I don't think those things are important.
And then I felt great. Like the sun was all happy to see me again. And I told Red and Smarty and a few others and then I came here. And I designed my space and I sent out notes saying: Come join me if you wanna.
And then I said: I will no longer write things that sound vague. I will write what I want to because I deserve this after years of holding onto feelings because everyone else might be hurt or upset or not understand.
Yeah, that's right. I deserve this freedom to hang out with my friends (you) and say what I feel.
How else can I write about this 'awesome' search? Huh? How? that's right. I can't.
I don't even know if it has been, or will be, awesome. Hell, I don't even think there is a search going on. If there is, it's for what to wear to Yoga tonight.
But either way. I like my new home. Stick around while I decorate, ok?