“I read some of your blog.”
Those are the words I’ve been dreading since my first day at work. It took 5 months, but today was the day. I suspect they (my co-workers) knew I had a blog a long time ago. After all, we’re friends on Facebook. Talk about a dilemma. When the friend requests came, I immediately thought:
“Oh no. I like these people but if I accept their friend requests, they’ll know I have a blog. Not to mention the fact that I post a lot on the old Facebook and I tend to be really annoying and dorky. Not good. On the other hand, if I ignore or decline the request, that won’t make for a very comfortable work environment.”
I accepted, of course. Like I said, these ladies are great. Since we’ve become friends, nobody has mentioned the blog at all. Maybe, by some miracle, they never saw the links to my blog posts. Maybe they ignored it and never once clicked it. Most likely, they clicked once, read, and decided never to click or mention it again. Either way, the subject of my blog never came up.
“I read some of your blog.”
I got that deer in the headlights look, said “Oh,” shuffled my feet while avoiding eye contact, and then went on with my work. I am the MASTER of awkward situations. If by master, I mean the master of making awkward situations more awkward. Also? I’m obsessive about said awkward situations, spending the rest of the day wondering what I should have said and what I’m supposed to do in the future.
Like, should I just abandon the blog until summer, when I don’t have to look these women in the face 5 days a week? Did I post anything really embarrassing that will haunt me for the next 4 months? Which posts did she read? Were they awful? Okay? Whiny? Too much information? (Of course, they were. This is my blog. That’s what I do!)
I’ve done this kind of obsessing before. An uncle said, “I read your blog and it’s just not for me.”
“Which post did you read?” I asked, horrified.
He told me and it was a post specifically for other bloggers. I have a few of those and it bothered me to no end that he chose THAT day to read. It bothered me so much, in fact, that a month later (yes, a month) I sent him a message on Facebook. I confessed my neurotic tendencies, my obsessiveness, and gave him a few links to posts I’m proud of. He read them and sent me a message back. He changed his mind. He likes my blog, my writing, and me (despite my obvious mental illness.) Yay!
Did it occur to me that he was just yanking my chain? Stroking my fragile ego? Blowing smoke up my butt?
Anyway. So my not-so-secret secret is out. I have a blog and my fellow lunch ladies know it. They might actually read it. Shoot, they might be reading this right now. (Hi, ladies.) I’ll know for sure when I go into work tomorrow and they avoid making eye contact with me or start speaking to me very slowly and making a big to-do when I don’t spill something, cut myself, or trip over my own feet–all with an indulgent grin on their faces.
Because, obviously, I have issues.