You know what was awesome? When I had this blog a la single on the side. And I apparently shared too much. TMI for any guy. "No one will want to date you when you have a blog like this." It went like this: even if you find someone open minded enough, who really doesn’t care what you write, he’ll care if his friends find it. If his parents find it. He’ll be embarrassed of you. Either shut it down, or just stop already.

So let me get this straight. Stop writing honestly about my single life in case some guy (whom I haven’t even met yet) has a problem with it? Because it’s a real turn off. Because men like a chase. Because people can google this forever. Because women should preserve a veil of mystery. Stop doing everything you’re driven to do, and then you’ll find someone. Mmm, yeah. Great advice.

So I continued to write about wetting the bed and not so much getting off when a guy dines in. I wrote about being clingy, needy, and fucked up. Though I spelled it fcuked, hoping (in vain) I wouldn’t be blocked everywhere. I wasn’t about to curtail everything I thought or expressed because of what others expected. I didn’t need to fit into a neat package fit with a bow.

Excuse me, but if he’s the right guy, he won’t give a shit. Not only won’t he care what I write on a blog, but he certainly won’t care what his friends or mother thinks. He’ll be his own man and live his own life. And I found him. A few of him, actually.

Surprisingly, not everyone is turned off by how a woman they’ll possibly some day marry writes about her turn ons. And the best part is, in being who you are, you meet other people who care only about that: who you really are. They don’t care what you look like on paper, what their buddies think, or if you’ll fit into his family dynamic. You attract people who are enchanted with the real you. And there’s nothing sweeter than being rewarded for what you already love to do. For just being you. All needy, psycho, and shit.