Disclosure

I had a total 26-year-old-discovers-blog flashback last night. My site stats were, yet again, telling a story. Same one as last time, as a matter of fact. New visitor to my site spends hours reading practically every word I've written blah blah blah. Only thing is, this time around, the reader in question was from out of state. It couldn't possibly be M3, I thought to myself.

Then again, could it?

Despite being compelled by an overwhelming desire to immediately email him to find out if he'd had an informative afternoon, or to put forth some other such baiting inquiry, I somehow ended up managing to resist the urge. If he was indeed my newest fan, I'd hear about it. And soon. And how.

He'd been asking about my blog for weeks now. Because, of course, like a complete idiot, I'd touted its artistic merits and creative virtues on our very first date. Then again, when no more than 15 minutes into your unbelievably long-awaited inaugural outing with the first boy you've genuinely been looking forward to meeting in a very very very long time and even though its just 15 minutes into said date its already become obvious that there absolutely needs to be a second one just as soon as possible you learn that he's currently cohabitating with another woman, possible fallout down the line from divulging the existence of one's online dating diary is about the furthest thing from your mind. Truth is, I was pretty sure I'd never see him again anyway.

Turns out, it wasn't M3 on my blog last night. But my brief moment of panic nonetheless served as a terrific catalyst for the two of us to spend the better part of this afternoon engaged in a semi-scientific analysis related to which of the various blog-sharing methodologies would cause me the least (or greatest) amount of discomfort. It was only a matter of time before M3 either sleuthed me out or convinced me to allow him access to my innermost thoughts. Surely the most desirable option, even in spite of the gas it might initially bring forth, would be to sit down next to him and read it together.

Ultimately, that's exactly where we landed. I'd rather be present, accounted for, possibly tipsy and quite probably with my hands down M3's pants when he discovers that I kept the 26 year old around far longer than I should have...that before M3 came along, I went out with so many boys I've genuinely lost count just to prove to myself how easily and frequently I could...that once he did come along, from the very first emails we exchanged to those first few moments standing inches from one another on date #1, there was something palpable and different and entirely, still to this day, totally indescribable going on between us, the likes of which I've never experienced with anyone else before...and now that there *is* nobody else, how I wouldn't want it any other way.

So tomorrow night, when M3 and I meet for a semi-impromptu mid-week rendezvous at a point almost exactly halfway between his home and mine, a plan that is coming together entirely and wonderfully by his design, I'll have brought along the laptop.

And I'll sit down next to him.

And we'll read it together.

(I wouldn't want it any other way.)