I’ve often patted myself on the virtual back for being able to maintain such a secret blog for the last two and a half years. Hey, look at me, I write a blog that nobody I know in real life reads. I’m a super-spy.
While discussing my anonymity with DaringYoungMom and EveGood on Tuesday night during intermission at “Mamma Mia!”, I came to the conclusion that the vultures are closing in on my super-secret blog. It really is just a matter of time before I get that dreaded phone call from my aunt telling me she found my blog. My fellow bloggers agreed that it is only a matter of time.
(This may be closer to the truth then I care to admit since DaringYoungMom actually knows my aunt in real life. And knows her well enough that my cousin babysits for DYM.)
Gulp!
Over these last two and half years of my virtual back pats, a few people have found the blog. There was the one couple from church that found it. I died a little and then traded favors in exchange for them never mentioning my blog and swearing them to guard my URL with the life of their unborn son. Then there was the two sisters from high school that found me. And then, another girl from high school found me. All of them have sworn to keep my blog a secret. I like these girls. I trust them. And I pretend they don’t read.
It makes things easier for me.
I wonder, that while I’m busy congratulating myself on my secret keeping skills, if my ex-husband’s new wife is reading my blog and laughing because, duh, she found it. Or that maybe my high school boyfriend found it and reads it on a daily basis. Heck, maybe my mom even reads. Or worse, my grandma.
How many of my lurking readers actually know my real name, went to high school or college with me, or attended my wedding(s)?!
I really have no good reason for wanting to keep this blog separate from my “real life”. I don’t write scathing things about people I love. I don’t post (too many) embarrassing pictures of myself, my husband, or my child. The stories I retell, from my past, are retold how I remember them. If these stories were to upset someone I know in real life, it’s only my memory of how things happened, and maybe not their memories. So really, I can’t imagine that it could/would upset them.
Last week I wrote a little post about The Seven Year Itch in a marriage. In this post I briefly talked about a couple I know in real life who are getting a divorce. I didn’t share anything too personal about this couple. Nothing about where they live, what they do for livings, what their names are, or what kind of a car they drive.
Yesterday I got an e-mail from one of my blog readers who lives nowhere near Seattle and nowhere near my hometown. In this e-mail she was all “were you talking about [insert most random last name you’ve ever heard] in your post about marriage and divorce?”
Holy shiz. I was talking about [insert most random last name you’ve ever heard] in that post. Totally.
And then double holy shiz, how did she figure this out?
“First off, how do you know the [insert most random last name you’ve ever heard] family? And how did you figure out I was talking about them?”
Come to find out this couple I know in real life are the ones that introduced this blog reader’s parents to each other many, many years ago while they were young college students. Apparently [insert most random last name you’ve ever heard] and this blog reader’s family are very close and personal family friends. We had a good laugh about the odds of us being connected in this way. The situation turned out to be quite funny and enjoyable to discuss.
This lovely reader figured all of this out by some silly little post I wrote in which I never mentioned (googable) names or (googable) locations. So while the world can seem to be small, it appears that the interweb really is small.
This just goes to prove that I’m not as hidden and secret as I like to think I am on the interweb. Having this happen tempts me to send out a broadcast e-mail with my URL to everyone in my “real life” contact book. Just to get it over with.
And yet, I won’t send it out. I’ll continue to think I’m hidden. To think nobody knows. I’ll continue to pat myself on the virtual back for pulling one over on those I know.
But if you do know me in real life, if you know my real name, if you attended my wedding(s), or are married to someone I was once married to, or if we share the same parents, or have the same last name, or went to the same schools, now is the time to delurk and admit that you read my blog.
Because today, and today only, I will forgive you for keeping it a secret from me.
I promise I won’t be mad. And I won’t freak out. And I won’t block your IP address.
(You can leave a comment, or e-mail me at holaisabel [at] gmail.com)