The Internet is freaking me out tonight, which is unfortunate because (a) I've been missing it while my free connection has been acting up and (b) I was just beginning to trust it with all of my mental vomit.
This past year or so, I've jumped from the usual use the internets to find jobs and email people, and have started two blogs, joined Facebook, hosted a number of couchsurfers, and went on a wild internet dating spree that ended with that horrible horrible horrible crazyblinddate date. Tonight I got one of those random emails from one of the many dating sites I logged into ONCE, and instead of ignoring the email, I decided to go check in on what I actually disclosed about myself on the site. Then I ended up spending a few hours on it taking tests and uploading a photo. Haha! I guess I was somewhat inspired by an evening spent with two of my favorite people in the world, both of whom have are currently in committed relationships with online roots.
While my internet connection dawdled me in and out of okcupid, I got a message from a couchsurfer I hosted a few months ago, telling me he found my blog because I'd mentioned his comic in it by name. He wasn't offended though, and wondered when we could hang out again.
Horror of fucking horrors! I was appalled. This is my anonymous blog and even though I write about everything from period sex to puking on subways, I felt extremely exposed. Then he went on to explain himself in defense of a comment I'd made about him. BAD internets, BAD! This made me want to puke all over my laptop (and then write about it, of course). Is it normal that I am okay posting all this shit online, and then feeling cheated when someone connects the dots? But this is how I felt when Boy started keeping up with my Myspace blog...hence my new blog, unconnected to anything...anything except a semi-detailed account of my existence, I suppose.
And how do I tell couchsurfer that I just don't have time for anyone new in my life with whom I'm not specifically obsessed? With any luck he'll just read this blog while I am systematically going through all my defunct dating profiles and removing them all. But I don't even know which ones I've joined, it turns out.
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I have found that if you're actually concerned with not being "exposed," don't expose yourself. And if you do, it's a pretty safe bet you were looking to be found out in some form or another.
I'm sorry that I didn't meet whatever qualifications you had in the miniscule amount of time we spent in one another's conscious presence, that I'm not worth getting "specifically obsessed" over, and thus due no more moderate level of attention. I had previously considered you my sole satisfactory couchsurfing experience, but it seems that was presumptuous of me. I might not have got in touch if I hadn't by chance ended up subletting three blocks from you. Most people in our neck of the woods have to ride the train at least 45 minutes to get to where people tend to hang out; if nothing else, I thought you'd have appreciated the convenience of an easy-access social life.
But hey, you know, that's OK. You sound like you're doing really super for yourself, and who am I to think my olive branch could improve on that? You are a very important person, so that makes it fine. I hope that continues to bring you as much satisfaction going forward as it has up until now. You have made a sterling case for why that should be no more my concern, and so I grant your wish.
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