Blind Date

Happiness is a fairly new discovery for me. I am not being flippant; it is just that it has taken me the better part of 27 years to get acquainted with the feeling and sometimes I still feel like I did right after my growth spurt, all clumsy and awkward, my reach far greater than my understanding of my grasp.

I have regular discussions, with those girlfriends of mine who have been kind and generous enough to let me explore this new happy me without judgments or condemnation, that I regularly find myself to be obnoxious.

It is like that voice inside my head that constantly condemned every word I said, every action I made, every choice I dared to take, it is like that voice finally took a hike and it happened to take my filter along with it.

And now I am just this obnoxious person but not just in real life, in the digital world too – a la blogosphere.

My choice, my penalty, right?

Well, tonight I went on a blind date, another first, and while it was a relatively benign experience, it was the first time I had ever been researched.

He had openly google-stalked me and read, in detail, the contents of my blog.

I felt like superman without my cape. Not only would it be impossible for me to write what I actually thought about the set up – even I have some couth – but it was like a predetermination had been made about exactly what kind of Barbie I was supposed to be. Apparently blatantly honest, ballsy, self-amused Barbie.

It felt like a total rip off.

Despite popular perception, even BS Barbie gets scared, timid and shy. DUH. The bravest face is usually just a big fat act.

These days I am happy and I feel freer now to be myself than I ever have before and yeah, a lot of times that means enjoying the crazy. But no one can be a jester all the time.

Every girl needs the safety of a little mystery and, sure, every girl hopes that curious eyes will one day scour her pages looking for that one line that explains what makes her tick. But no one wants to be thought an open book.