Walk the line

Ok, blog. You and I have come to an impasse. I fear we may have to break-up.

The problem with our relationship is that it isn't just about you and
me. Our exploits are on display for the world to read and unfortunately we are rarely the sole personas featured in our subject matter. Rightfully so, I feel, given when we are it tends to be introspective dribble.

When our banter is good, I mean, when we enter into the really, really hot part of our relationship, it always incriminates our cohorts and gets me in trouble.

That's right blog. You got me busted.

This isn't the first time.

There have been episodes in our tumultuous past when the stories we
share about our friends, foes and the activities that engulf our lives
have come back to bite us in the ass. When the featured characters in
stories of drunken debauchery, in appropriate courting, or parental
discourse have resulted in irate voice mails, charging, "I can't
believe you wrote that!"

V called it slander. But to be fair I did call him a pansy. Wait...
maybe that was just in my mind.

Blog, you and I are a pair of catty gossipers, cackling at life with
our dentures off. And not everyone likes the joke.

And so we have reached the fork in our digital road. We have come to
the point where everything that I want to share with you get stashed
on my hard drive to protect the not so innocents.

My attempts to protect the subjects of our tales, just make readers -
and often, the subjects themselves, confused.

I suppose, if I spelled it out clearly, there would be a lot less for
them to read into and a lot less for them to speculate on.

It's like my ex used to say, "Just spit it out! Dancing around your
thoughts just makes it so much more infuriating." But then again, he
was a dick.

I can't. I just can't. Not given the current parameters of our
relationship. It feels like some kind of violation.

My girlfriend's boyfriend sat in the audience at my show and I had to
stop and persuade him that these stories were enhanced for
entertainment value. Let's hope he bought it.

So blog, we are stuck. Living somewhere between the adventures I am
sure you would like to share and the fear that I might get text
messages that make me say the truth out loud.

Lord knows I can write what I don't have the balls to say.

Let's sleep on it. Maybe in the morning we will find a way to walk that line.