Sometimes I don’t think I’m personal enough in my blog. Sometimes I’ll write what I think is a good posting and will get only two or three responses. I mean, I always value the responses I get, but if I happen to think the blog is good, thought-provoking or contains a lot of Calvin Trillin kind of ironic wit, I’d like it to be more widely read.
Then I get feelings of inadequacy and insecurity. It’s nothing new. I used to get the same sort of thing with my newspaper column. “What’s wrong with them? Can’t they appreciate how brilliant I was?” It’s similar to the sort of thing that can happen with sex. “What’s wrong with her, can’t she appreciate that that was possibly the best encounter of her life?”
I know – I know. It’s all about ego.
But, sometimes I look at the blogs of others. Worthy blogs, of course, and I see people who have 976 (or thereabouts) cogent comments from readers. God, does that make me feel like clumsy fat kid when players on a volleyball team are being chosen. “What about meeee? I’m nice.”
There is something I have noticed with such blogs, however. They are often very personal and revelatory. Some are TMI revelatory. Some are even WTMI revelatory, but that doesn’t seem to matter. We live in a time in which too many people expose themselves and their inner workings (all of them) to all and sundry, it seems.
I don’t much do that. I tend to keep certain things private and away from public scrutiny. I am not particularly shy or modest. I not only bathe in the nude, but I have even skinny-dipped in mixed company. But, I realize I am still a bit loath to reveal too much about me. For example, you know nothing about my underwear and maybe are agog about the idea of knowing. There are bloggers who offer tales of their skivvies and also wax poetically, and sometimes even erotically about what happens when their skivvies are removed by an intimate friend. Fun. I don’t mind titillation at all. I just find myself hard-pressed to write about it.
So, maybe the time has come for change. Part of this inspiration arises from the fact that this very afternoon I am going to interview three young woman who take their clothes off in public places. No, they are not exhibitionists or strippers, but are artists’ models. How do they do that? A readership is agog to find out, I am hoping.
– Underwear: I garb myself in underpants primarily because one does. Commando wasn’t a good career move even for Britney. I wear your standard jockey-shorts in multi colors. OK. Did you want to know that? Well, now you do.
– Sex: I am not a virgin, nor even like a virgin. I won’t tell you an actual number of “friends with privileges” I’ve known over the years for that would be bragging, an admission of rejection, or a boldfaced lie. You will never know that.
– Hygiene: I shower every morning and also wash my hair every day. Six days of the week I shower, and one day in the seven I have a tub bath in our large Jacuzzi. It’s heavenly. Mostly it’s solitary, but sometimes not. Nuff sed. And I also shave every morning. My face, that is.
– Cosmetic adornments: I have no tattoos, nor do I want any. I don’t like them. I have no piercings. See tattoos.
– Jewelry: I wear three rings. Two on my left hand, including a wedding band, and one on the right. I like rings. Oh, and I wear a wristwatch. I cannot cope with life without a watch.
– Sacktime: We have a kingsize bed. It is heavenly. I couldn’t imagine sleeping in tandem in even a queen any more, let alone a double. And it is covered with an eiderdown duvet, not blankets. And sheets are changed weekly. I find crisp new sheets to be almost sensual.
– Garb: Mainly casual, jeans and the like. But, I love dressing up and have even been known to deck myself out in a tux. I love being invited to a shindig that demands a tux.
OK. Is that revelatory enough? You don’t actually see me “warts and all” (I have no warts, BTW) but pretty close for now. Let me know how I’m doing. If you have burning questions about me I may or may not answer them.