To Blog or not to Blog

Once upon a blog ago, a stunning friend critiqued me, and begged that I blog about the ACTUAL “New adventures of old Christine”. Silly me took heed of what my friend had to say, and now I find myself here; at a cross roads of sorts.

To blog or not to blog . . . about my personal adventures that is.

If I were a mother, I could guiltlessly blog about my mini me’s and all their heart warming antics that bring joy into my life. If I were a pet owner I could do the same. I am very happily neither mother nor pet owner, however sadly not in the position to freely blog about the actual people in my life; what with their happily having the right to privacy. So what’s a girl to do when she has this epic story to tell of her 3 minute weekend, and the man she agreed to keep a secret? Plus an unrelated dodgy story about my alias antics on Facebook.

She blogs away anyway right?

Right?

Wrong!

It has to be wrong of me to tell the tale of this anonymous He and I? The cyber stealing; the Wednesday chatting; nostalgic Thursday; Friday evening; the 3 minutes and the finding myself back in my world on a Monday morning with a grin too big for my face to wear. Who wants to read about dramatic phone calls to friends about whether or not to tell on myself, while brother man was being told about me and his friend, whom I didn’t know whether to mention or not? Who would even believe that I didn’t sleep with him on that lie laced Friday evening; let alone that I had 3 meals cooked for me in all of what was “3 minutes”.

It has to be even more senseless for me to tell on myself about the alternate FB account I opened, and how I found myself overwhelmingly being hit on by my most recent ex; who also happens to be the only man I had ever not cheated on? Why would I divulge in details of how he happened to fall for my alias ;who was in fact simply me by another name, allegedly located elsewhere in beautiful S.A? Would that not just be my putting the puzzle pieces together for him, and indirectly hollering at the tip of my fingers, that his latest crush was in fact his ex whose heart he wrenched? Why give my identity away after being soberly advised to close the account in question, without ever having disclosed to him, whom he had truly fallen for?

This smells like a catch-22 if you ask me.
What to do when faced with a catch-22?
Learn the damn lesson!! The lesson obviously being that I must make more bad decisions
So as to have priceless stories to tell…or not to tell.
Then for kicks and giggles, proceed to blog about it all; without saying anything at all.
;)