Aug 15 2007
Oh, Internet, how I wish I could quit you…
It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.
Oh, fuck, the truth is I’m fickle and I’ve been mesmerized by all your nice words. So much so, I’ve decided that each week on Monday, I shall write a gut-wrenching, long, dramatic good-bye post. Do you promise to come adore me?
I think my husband might hang up a sign that says “Please Do Not Feed the Attention Whore.”
What a difference a few days make. I really thought I had carefully considered it all before moving forward, deciding, posting. I didn’t feel I was acting rashly. I mean, I figured I was such a suck-ass blogger lately, and really no one was reading anymore, who would miss it? And then all you people came out of the woodwork and wrote nice things and - for the love of cheese fries - you sent flowers.
Maybe I thought I had fallen out of love with you. Maybe I thought you had fallen out of love with me. But now, well, I’m heady. Will you stay up all hours talking on the phone with me? Can we nap during the day and make love all night long? Shall we nip out to Waffle House at 3AM because we haven’t eaten a bite in more than 12 hours? WILL YOU MARRY ME, INTERNET?
Suddenly I’m noticing your piercing eyes, that little dimple at the top of your butt, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re nervous. It’s like we just rediscovered each other and I feel a little shy and yet energized and, well, let’s be honest, electrified.
Will you have me back? Will you forgive my rashness in threatening to pack my bags when all along we’ve had so much, such depth, such an investment? Can we ever forget this little fiasco, do you think?
I’m not willing to post the original situation that had me shutting the doors, but it is still something that bothers me. The question, and certainly not an original question in the blogosphere, is whether concern over one or few people reading is enough of a reason to close the doors. My husband insists that it’s not. (And he knows everything, so who am I to argue, right?) I might just watch the situation for a bit and see how it plays out. Perhaps it will just go away with its ugly tail between its ugly legs. A girl can hope.
Speaking of hope and love for the Internet, I found some books that interested me on restoring romantic love to a marriage. Oh, we don’t lack romantic love altogether in this house, it’s just that we vacillate between that and the lesser-known romantic hate. Or maybe I just need a bigger does of Wellbutrin. Anyway, I added these books to my Amazon shopping basket and less than 48 hours later they were at my door. How to Fix Your Marriage in 5 Steps or Less. Well, maybe that’s oversimplifying it. The Internet, it is awesome.
But see, you guys give me hope. Hope that sometimes things are there, but just quiet. That sometimes there are good things underneath that need to be uncovered. I think that might be the case with my husband and me, we need to uncover more of the good stuff. We need to decide if the counseling is doing a thing for us (I think no, really, it’s not) and then decide whether that means we want to stop altogether or simply find another counselor.
Internet, you should know that I’m all caught up on laundry (I wish I could take credit, but I think it’s due to husbandly penance) and I’ve been getting on that mother-fucking treadmill every day.
You are all part of my recovery. What a fool I was to think I could quit you.
Thank you. Every single one of you that wrote an email or left a comment. It meant a lot to me to feel some lovin’ at a rather low time. I don’t know how I can repay you.
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