On Blogging About Boys
I talked to him on the phone tonight and we laughed and vented and got a little philosophical.
I told him I’d make a list of his annoying quirks so he could work on his faulty personality.
He said, “Sounds like the perfect little project for a blogger. Don’t bloggers like lists?”
We’re not always nice to each other, but it’s all in good fun.
And no, I’m not going to make a list of his faults here for the world to read. Mostly because when I told him with all the sarcasm I could muster that no, he had no annoying or irritating or maddening traits or quirks or character faults, I actually meant it, minus the sarcasm. I mean, I’m sure he does – we all do – but at this point I don’t see them. I could list a hundred and two things (ball park figure) about him which I think are wonderful… the only thing I’d put in the “con” column is the fact that he doesn’t let me feed him nearly as often as I try to. Fudge, sir? Making soup! Come over! Like a cup of hot chocolate whilst we conquer Mario 3?
This really isn’t a fault of his, in the end. It’s just a clear sign that I am an Olson girl. I belong to my Great Grandma Helena, for sure. Before you know it, I’ll be preparing for my father’s visits by making sure two things are in the house: Banana cream pie and all the fixins for raspberry milkshakes.
The real point of this all is to say that the fact that I blog has never been a secret but beyond the fact that I do it, we’ve never really talked about it. But he brought it up tonight, and though it was jokingly, it did kind of morph into the conversation that defined what he is and isn’t comfortable about me saying about him here. Meaning, I officially have the okay to write about him. In public. On the internet. And stuff.
And the fact that my mother and everybody she sent Christmas lists to this year has direct access to this website as well means he’s not worried at all. Lucky him.
I’m constantly reminded of how well I don’t know this boy. Some of the reminders are simply questions that come to mind, missing pieces as I try to puzzle together things he’s said and things we’ve done. Still, in other ways, I’m already finishing his sentences. Not in deep, philosophical ways. In silly, facetious ways. Still, what we have right now is working quite well. And I’m happy with it just the way it is.
And I do think, as a blogger, if I can’t have another blogger, dating a boy who is totally cool with me writing about him as long as I’m not sugarcoating things (well, I’m a sugarcoater in all cases, as a blogger, but I guess I won’t sugarcoat more than usual)(wouldn’t most people want you to sugarcoat things?) is kind of perfect, right?
You don’t have to answer that question. I already know.