The movie version of me, and we all have a movie version of ourselves, is a little taller, a lot thinner and just a little bit more confident than I. But at this stage in the drama (er, well comedy drama) that is my life would be like the end of a Bob Hope movie I saw once. After all his adventures and saving the day, his partner Bing Crosby gets the girl - and this from a 2 minute cameo just seconds before the closing credits. It’s your life, but I suggest you get script approval.
Things are...complicated.Is this over?
I found out recently, and apparently for some time now, that Sporty has not only located but has been reading this blog. She let me know when she referred to herself as "Sporty", correcting me in a text when I called her Sunshine, a allusion to how she brightens my day. To put it mildly I was a little surprised. Then I thought about what that means.
And its kinda good and kinda bad.
Good in that a lot of stuff I probably put in here are things I should have said to her, and now she knows them without me actually having to voice them. That and she's not mad at me for writing about her. And bad because knowing she's reading may affect the honesty of future disclosures [self censorship] and the overarching concept of "screaming into the virtual darkness". Kind of a toss up really.
One can't really put something on the internet and expect no one to find it, especially since it's linked to my Facebook page, and she's one of my FB friends. But then so many people on Facebook never look at any thing beyond their own page after the first few days, so you figure, why not?
But then the girl has always been full of surprises and has a need to know, which is part of the attraction. *sigh*
In reality, there is hardly anything magical in here, nothing Sex in the City movie-esque as when Carrie found the emails from Big (yes, I did watch the FIRST movie). Some of the more intense things she's probably seen before. One or two moments when I really was "screaming into the virtual darkness" she probably hadn't, but realized must have happened. Nothing soul shattering. And since I'd made it fairly crystal clear to her my feelings, and we both know that they're closer to drug fantasy that any real possiblity, what I guess she would see in here is a few fleeting moments where I indulge in that fantasy. And talk about law school and politics. And restaurants.
It does however paint a fuller picture of me.
Wait, there goes that pesky hope again. Sometimes you get a little disoriented when you have to reclassify a hope as a dream. And hope is something I can't afford.
Barkeep. Riesling. Two glasses. Thanks.
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