I had the opportunity to meet a lovely (much admired by me) blogger in the reals, recently. It happened that the only other human I know in this place came past with her lovely little bub in pram, accompanied by her mum's group pal and pram. I was introduced to mum's group pal, polite conversation ensued.
But I didn't introduce lovely blogger and lovely friend. Because I am a dork. A dork who writes a blog. A blog that her friends and family don't know about. Because it's dorky. And I'm a dork. And I couldn't bring myself to say I met this gorgeous person through my blog. Not introducing these two lovely ladies did no justice to the amount of admiration I have for both their awesomeness, but my dorkiness won out on the day. I am better on paper.
Homobloggerus, in her natural social habitat, is less awkward.
Do your real humans read your stuff? My darling told me the other day that when he is having a rough day, he hops on the blog to look through our babies in the Portrait Project. That made me happy. But why am I hesitant to share this place with friends and family? I'm not super cagey about it, I'm pretty sure I've mentioned it once or twice, but I'm not sending them notifications either. I think maybe I feel a bit protective and precious about this space and community. You know that moment when two different circles of your friends (say, old school pals and new work mates) meet? Awkward. And dorky-awkward served with a side of stubborn-and-don't-need-anybody is quickly turning into a big plate of hermit!
Thank goodness it's summer, bringing with it the opportunity for casual get-togethers, socially drinking at sunset and public bikini wearing.
Shit.
