Uh oh…

Well, for anyone out there who might be listening / reading this, I think I’m about to be exposed.  My girlfriend suggested last summer that I write a blog, and apparently so I have.  The Uh-oh is that I never told her; I think I mentioned it in the beginning but we were busy, working, family, grandchildren, etc. and I never followed up the conversation and neither did she.  Then out of the blue a couple of days ago, she sends me a link for some writing contests and asks that all-important question, “Have you written anything lately?”  Well, not really, unless you count this blog.  Which I didn’t mention and I don’t know why. 

At this point, insert a pause because I do know why; I have no idea if I’ve written anything in here that might hurt her.  I don’t think I have but she is a woman after all and we’re a moody crowd.  Some days just about anything is enough for a few tears.  I’m not well known for my tact and well, frankly, I’m a little scared that I might have vented about something that might hurt her feelings somehow.  God knows we do not need a set-back in our relationship.  I think by this time she knows that she is THE only woman in my life and, for once in my life, I’m happy, content, not looking around to see who might be looking at me.  I know that sounds improbable but it’s completely true.  For once I have no desire / no designs on any woman but her.  She is that true love I have waited for.  Egad, look how mushy she makes me.  *sigh* 

So, crowd of mine, friends that I don’t really know, as well as any strangers among you, do I confess and send her a link, or do I wait it out and see if she discovers this alternative life of mine on her own? 

Lori, if you ever do read this, I love you; this blog wasn’t about you, it’s about me.  It’s my past in a nutshell.  It’s my attempt to make sense out of things that have happened to me, that continue to happen, etc.  It’s my way of processing and remembering, my way of putting it down before I forget everything.  Yes, there are stories with other names in them but I’ve only shared those to establish who I am today.  They are most definitely my past.  You are my present and my future.  I think I can say with some certainty that 100% of any erotica is fiction and any names used are simply because my imagination couldn’t come up with a different one apparently.

Anyway, anyone out there, give me strength, give me advice, tell me I’m a cad if I am, tell me if I’m wrong, if I’m right.  I’m so afraid of hurting this gentle soul that I love so much.  And if you know how to delete this, tell me because I can’t figure it out; yes, I’ve looked.  Color me challenged, while I change my name to Uh-oh.


14 thoughts on “Uh oh…

  1. Why not start with sending her the link to this very post, then let her work her way backwards? You’ve written some beautiful, romantic pieces here, that I always assumed was for the woman you are currently with. She might just be as flattered as she deserves to be. Flattered, moved, and more deeply understanding of you. Good luck! Keep us posted!

    • 95% of them are about her; it’s that 5% that I drug up from the way past that I’m worried about. If it were you, would you be understanding? I’m not sure if I would and I like to believe I’m open-minded. Thank you so much for your thoughts on this. I need a good sounding board sometimes and it would be nice if I could separate the ‘friend’ from the ‘lover’ as she is a great friend. Thanks again. 🙂

  2. C read my blog and I hadn’t told her about it. What upset her the most was not the women I wrote about but all the ones that I’m flirty with on here. Remember C and I had broken up for a little over a year yet discovering and reading my blog had hurt her and still makes her insecure.
    Lori isn’t C. But you know your relationship better than anyone else. You could always remove the posts that you’re worried about and then shown her your blog. However, I believe that the truth always comes out.
    If you’re worried I’d ask myself why.

    • I think of myself as non….non-something. Non, aggressive isn’t the right word…non-I don’t like to start shit. I’d much rather life be full of laughter and love and geez I’m not even sure if you set me on fire that I’d be able to be pissed for very long. Maybe until the scars healed, then I’d be cool if we were friends again. There’s probably a word for that too that I don’t know right now. It’s 5 AM, forgive me if this is…yeah, you get the picture. I like trust and I give it easily, although I do tease her like crazy but she gets me so we’re good on that unless she’s having a good day. I forgive easily too but she doesn’t so much. She will say she’s over something and then six months later, jab you with it during a totally different argument. I can barely remember breakfast from yesterday. I just want to live and let live, let’s all put daisies in the gun barrels kind of life. Feed the animals, help the elderly, love maddeningly, be kind…to one another, to everyone we meet. Okay, it’s early, I need more coffee. But suffice it to say, life is too short for all the crap that’s out there. For me, it’s really much too short to argue with the ones you love. That isn’t the lasting impression I want anyone to remember of me, but rather a smile, a laugh, a hug, a kindness.

  3. Oh C was also very upset that I bitched about her family on here. Lori may be upset reading about her daughter on here and how you couldn’t wait to get rid of her. She may not like that it’s “public”.

      • It’s just a thought. I told C everything and a whole lot more than I’d blogged about but still it bothered her so much. It’s just a thought that’s all.

      • I think about it, oh trust me I do. And right or wrong and regardless of how she might ever find out, or if she ever does, this wasn’t about her; it it was, I’d probably have followed up in the beginning. Yes, I definitely would have. I could walk beside her for a hundred years and never be bored. She’s funny, sexy, loving, just all the good stuff you want rolled up in ball of crazy and tied with a ribbon of WTF. I could never hurt her on purpose.

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