The Blogging Catch -22

Secret Squirrel

The Blogging Catch-22

I love to write. This blog encouraged me to sit down and write every day for the last 8 months, plus given me a break from writing the corporate stuff that fills my days. In fact, I don’t think I’m used the word ‘convergence’ once. I’ve been able to hone a voice which is pretty authentic (a little artistic license) and still been able to rant on topics that I’m passionate about. Best of all, I can focus in on the inane crap that filters through my brain as I walk my dog, downward dog or burpee myself into a coma.. then forget all about it. 

Plus, I like making people laugh.

But there’s a dark underbelly they don’t tell you about when you innocently consider your naming options on Blogger, or wonder whether your mother is reading.

Blogging makes you undateable.

Imagine that after a great first date you innocently Google your date’s name. And up pops their athletic results, their high school hockey team photo from 1982, some Facebook photos and *gasp* a blog which includes lots and lots and lots of their rambling thoughts. On every subject from dating, to sex, from what they find attractive to what turns them off. Its dating GOLD. The ultimate short cut. You can learn all about them, you can find out what they like and don’t like, what they worry about, what skeletons are in their closet and exactly who they are.  All without actually going through the hours of ‘get to know you’ conversation. Hell, its like receiving a girlfriend in a box with all the features explained and all the instructions provided.


This blog is NOT a diary. Again, this blog is NOT my diary.

This blog is not a handbook to dating me or getting to know me. It doesn’t give you instant tricks or tips on how to get me to like you. It doesn’t include everything I am, what I think and its not 101% true on every single fact (though the guy with the crossed eyes and mole, 150% true, word for word).  And  its certainly not the way to find a way to get me into bed as fast as possible.

That’s what tequila is for. 


But, to date, every single guy who I’ve been on a date with since I started writing this thing, who learns my last name during our date, has suddenly had one of two visceral reactions in the 24 hours following our date;

  • A 180 degree shift from planning the second date, to never calling or texting again without any explanation.  (or maybe the last 3 guys I dated died unexpectedly?)
  • A sudden perking up of interest and over familiarity with me, even though we’ve only exchanged trivialities over 2 glasses of wine.

I’ve only had one second date since I started writing last November. Apparently men, or the men I am dating, find my blog a real turnoff. Or a real turn-on. Which I find a little alarming and more than slightly sad. Because its NOT a diary. And it seems that for some people, they think it is. Unfortunately those of the single, male persuasion.
Ok, so you might think -‘noone has a gun to your head, stop’ or ‘censor what you write’ ‘change your name’ ‘hide your identity’. But that’s the whole point of the blog. Its to be myself, to be authentic and to put something out there that I’m not ashamed to have my name attached to. This is the only creative outlet I have.. without this, I’m highlight of my day is writing an email about updates to a computer system (yes, really).

I wish I could write fiction. I’d write a book, quit the day job and just churn out the stuff day after day. But I lack the talent, the ideas and the imagination. Plus reality is always stranger and more funny than most things I could come up with. So here’s the Catch-22. If I write what I want, I risk every guy I ever date thinking that they know me, judging me on 187 blog posts and determining their next steps from this… or I filter what I write, hide my identity and never mention writing during a date, ever.

Because everyone wants a short cut, and apparently all the men I date would rather read about who I might be, what I might think and what I might have done, than actually talk to me and learn about me, from real live, sitting in front of them.

Ok. I’m done whining.

Suggestions to this dilemma please…???

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