Ladies, sometimes I am reading your blog posts about your boyfriends, or about dates you went on, and thinking, “Holy sweet crap. I’m glad that I’m not that guy.” Not because you aren’t collectively lovely.
It’s just that I’m a pretty private dude.
And some of you chicks talk about some shit.
I don’t think that I could date a female blogger who writes (literal) posts about her relationships.
I don’t need a girlfriend writing:
“Dear blog, It is 9 am on a Saturday and Peter is on the couch, in his boxers, eating cereal, watching English soccer and woohoo-ing whenever Liverpool scores. I’m going to beat him.”
“Dear blog, Peter once again floated the idea of buying a new one when I asked him to scrub the toilet. I’m going to beat him.”
“Dear blog, Motherfucker brings that French maid uniform into the bedroom again and I am going to cut him. He just doesn’t look good in it!”
It would be totally different if I wasn’t a blogger and didn’t “know” so many of you people. I just don’t want you nosy bastards knowing my business.
If I wasn’t a blogger and a girlfriend wanted to tell me about a post she wrote about me, I’d probably react like this…
“I don’t give a shit. Now get in that kitchen and make me a GODDAMN sammich!!!”
Wait. That doesn’t really sound like me at all. What about this one…
“That’s super. You are so cute when you get excited about your little stories. Now why don’t you go to the mall and buy yourself something pretty while I watch “The Wire?” *slap on the ass* Go on. Git!”
Hmm. That’s not me either. (IS NOT!)
“I love you, sweetie. I really do. But, I’ll love you just *that* much more, if you can tell me about how you shared our dirty laundry, with everyone on the planet with internet access, at half time. Cool? Cool.”
Thaaaat’s the right ballpark.
Also, what if you are dating a blogger and things end badly? As delightful as I am, it has happened in a relationship or two of mine. (No, really!) Granted it was always their fault, but whatever.
“No, Peter, I am not really interested in a polygamous lifestyle.”
I don’t need a jilted ex writing a “So, we broke up, now let me tell you about Peter’s Rainbow Brite tattoo on his ass and his strange Oprah fetish” post.
Maybe if I had nude photos to bust out for some Mutually Assured Destruction action. I dunno.
So, yeah, I could probably never date a female blogger that talks about her personal life.
Unless she is REALLY cute.