I'm going to let that sink in for a minute...
Ok, let's continue.
My blog has become a window to my soul. Sure, the blog can be amusing. I make fun of myself, I make fun of others (I really like those parts), I rant and rave about random shit that annoys me and I dish on boys. But there's all this other stuff. This sad stuff. This remorseful stuff. The me trying to understand myself stuff.
And I showed it to him.
This probably means we are either going to break up, or I'm going to end up having his babies.
I don't really know how it happened. We were hanging out, talking. Watching this couple talk about sex and why you shouldn't name your children after cars or liquor. (I don't know how he finds this crap). Then we started talking about our first few dates, and I told him how lucky he was that I had gone on really bad first dates with the engineer and wrinkly shirt guy right before meeting him. My expectations for my first prof date were so incredibly low, it made it sooooo easy for him to exceed them. Then all of sudden, he's all like "you should at least let me read about your first date on the blog. Come on. Its only fair." And I was all "no way!" Then I compromised and told him he could read about the engineer and wrinkly shirt.
And so, he did. I cut and pasted it into an email and sent the stories to him. Not that I should have bothered, since he already knew where the blog was. To his credit, he has known how to find my blog since our 3rd date and he hasn't read it. Until I told him he could. Now I've opened up all kinds of cans of worms of various types and sizes.
It was nice, actually, watching him read what I had written six months ago about loser guys, then about him. He was incredulous that the engineer didn't walk me to my car - then was reminded that he didn't walk me to my car either that first night. He laughed (I am friggin funny) at my funnies, and made sympathetic noises at my sads. And it was so nice, in a way, to be able to finally share this with him.
Then, I freaked out when I found out that he kept reading them after I left his house last night. (Oh yeah, I stalk the people that stalk my blog). I'm not sure I had even started my car, and he was back on the site, reading my take on him and this summer. I told him he could, but I didn't expect him to. Why, I don't know. I'm an idiot. Of COURSE he was going to want more! He's wanted to read it forever. ("The whole world can read your blog, except me! How's that fair?") And I gave him permission.
He read more this morning. Then, apparently got bored of me (I don't know how that's possible, really).
It freaked me out. It was fine when I was sitting there, watching his facial expressions as he read. It was safe - if I saw that something had bothered him, we could talk about it immediately. But when I'm not there, its out of my control.
We talked about it tonight - round and round and round in circles (all due to me and my unwillingness to tell him what I really wanted to do). I want to be able to let him read it, uncensored and unmonitored, but I can't. It leaves me really, really, really vulnerable. My walls have been shattered over the past few months - this is too much. It removes too many of the remaining bricks. So, we came to a compromise. He is allowed to read them, but only with me, as a joint activity. That way, we can talk about what I was going through at that particular moment, why I said or thought the things that I did, and he won't stew about it or wonder. Or think I'm the biggest freak he has ever encountered.
I knew this day would eventually come, and I've been dreading it. But, I think I'm handling it ok. After what we went through with my family last month, it really seems silly to shut him out of this part of my life any longer.