Part Of My Charm

Something interesting happened over the last few weeks. For the first time since I’ve been blogging, I dated someone I didn’t already know – someone I met on the street (so to speak). As you might imagine, this presented some fairly unique issues (as if dating didn't already present enough challenges for a  struggling, self-esteem-challenged, boozy, single mom raising two smallish kids, one with autism).


After our first date, he sent me a friend request on Facebook. And there I was. Faced with not only the question of giving this person the keys to my Facebook kingdom and all the revealing personal tidbits located therein, but also the fact that this would lead to my blog and what amounts to the keys to my very soul. There’s not much about me that can’t be found here in the annals of Perfectly Floppy Bacon. Fears, shortcomings, embarrassments, loss, shame. It’s all here, right alongside my accomplishments, loves, joy and pride.

Not to mention the fact that this person would no doubt, after reading the blog, forever have in the back of his mind that he could very well be the next Fake Accent, Ambiguously Gay Troy or (heaven forbid) Too Cocky Rob. No pressure.

I sat on the Facebook friend request for a day contemplating my next move, but ultimately decided there was no use trying to keep this part of me from him. Because truthfully, keeping from him this part of me would amount to keeping from him all of me. And what would be the point anyway? It’s all stuff that would come out eventually. I’ve always been a very open person, but this was a whole new level of exposed. I felt quite literally naked, but I let him read it anyway.

After reading, he said he liked me even more than he originally thought he did. He found me to be talented and funny and said he had a great deal of respect for me. He saw my naked soul and didn’t flee the scene – at least not for a couple of weeks. I suspect he thought running for the hills the minute he'd read the blog was a tad obvious, so he continued to pursue me for a few more weeks before sitting me down and enumerating his concerns for the future of our relationship. I’m not sure how many bullet points he had prepared, but I cut him off at four. If, after three weeks of dating, your concerns for the future of the relationship require a PowerPoint presentation, it’s time to cut your losses.

Will I do it differently next time? Probably not. In the immortal words of Popeye the Sailor Man, "I am who I am."  And that’s not likely to change. Anyone brave enough to date me should know he's getting the whole damned package – a potty-mouthed, borderline lush with questionable parenting skills and multiple neuroses who over-shares on a regular basis in a very public forum. That’s me.

I contend (and correct me if I'm wrong) it’s all part of my charm.