I'd be pondering over the events here in blogland except that I'm pretty sure that no man would be comfortable with the idea that some goofy broad was wondering - in front of God and Everyone on the Internet - if he is restrained and cautious with amazing self-control or has erectile dysfunction. Or both.
Also there is the unfortunate possibility that Velvet might get a wild hair and read the blog. He knows all about the blog because when I first got the Statcounter and noticed the unusual reading habits of people in far off places, I would often speculate out loud on WTF - especially since in the beginning, I couldn't believe some clearly random events were, in fact, completely random. I have since learned from reading Bruce's blog about SuperSense that human brain is wired to find patterns where there are none - which explains some people's belief in The Almighty.
I frequently dismiss the Velvet Factor - but my dad occasionally checks in over here and there is nothing that embarrasses me more than my dad reading about my sex life.
And you also have to worry about hurting other people's feelings which is why I never discussed the abrupt end of the budding relationship with The Artist from the South of France. I told him about the blog because, at the time, I felt it was only fair that he knew he might wind up being discussed all over the internet by some goofy broad since, at the time, I still felt guilty for upsetting The Narcissist who was highly pissed about being called, in a public forum, a Cheap, Emotional Black Hole. I felt The Artist from the South of France should be warned about my potential for bad behavior. The Artist from The South of France still checks in here sometimes although not with his original frequency. Nevertheless, he was an innocent bystander in the Tricia Experience, and I would hate to be rude.
Clearly I don't give a flying fuck about the feelings of some people - namely That Narcissist, Doublewide, ShatAKing and The Dick with Ears. They were all so arrogant and offensive that they are merely reaping what they sewed. The Narcissist used to read the blog all the time to see what I'd said about him. He'd call me up to talk about something he'd read but I'd never told him, and it became a twisted form of communication between us. He is under the impression that I am so respectful of his feelings that I would never, ever say anything about his being a Narcissist on the blog again. My shrink felt it necessary to point out that I may not have been entirely honest with him, but apparently I have had a tendency to appease the people who make me the most angry - probably because Nice Girls don't express rage and hostility. We bake a peach pie and eat the whole thing instead. I'm glad to say I've been rehabilitated.
Some people say a blog is like a journal, and that's true to an extent because you do write down your own thoughts in your own Private Idaho. However, people leave comments on blogs which never happens with journals. Sometimes comments come from friends in real life, but more often they come from Private Idaho because my bloggy buddies and I don't have the opportunity to go out for cocktails.
Then there is the fact that when a person is journals, s/he never has to worry about parents, children, friends, would be significant others, etc. reading a journal entry. Everything you say is between you and the empty page. That is not the case with a blog.
All that shit I said about The Narcissist found it's way onto computers around the globe because people are always googling "narcissistic supply source," or "condescending narcissist." Other people google for panties which is why Gayle's Panties is on it's way to becoming a cult favorite. The panty fetish thing is a bit bizarre because it never occurred to me that there even were panty fetishers out there in the ether who would land on Menopausal Stoners every day on account of her underwear - or mine, for that matter, because I went on to ponder the condition of my own underwear and that post gets a lot of attention too. I went into detail about how I maintain the lingerie drawers in my dresser without the foggiest notion that I was providing a segment of the population with erotica.
Which brings me back to today's question: What to do with The Accountant. Clearly I need the sort of information that can only be gained from a road test, as it were, even though I know that no matter what, he's not long for this road. Sooner or later, this road leads to Austin, Texas and I already know damn good and well he ain't going on that trip. He's a nice guy in many ways, but when he and I were talking about birthday presents for two four year olds in his life, he clearly showed entrenched, outdated gender biases. Add that to his being so kosher he's never eaten lobster in his entire life and we already have some major lifestyle differences that make me wonder exactly what he's doing with this Shiksabelle - besides the obvious, which isn't so obvious to me right now since every man I've ever known would not have gone home so early last night.
It was all very pleasant, and any lesbian can testify that a fully functional penis is not mandatory. It's possible that The Accountant wasn't adequately prepared - but again I have to wonder if that means he didn't have a Trojan in his wallet or a Viagra. I already know enough about him to know if it was simply a Trojan issue, he's so gender biased that he would think it was bad form to ask me if I had any since that would suggest I was a loose woman. As if there weren't already enough evidence that I am a confirmed floosie and proud of it. Which makes me wonder if there's any reason to see him again at all what so ever.
You never know. I might be surprised, hang out with him a while and learn something. I've already fixed it so that he can't know about the blog, though. Ooops.
Thanks to Utah Savage and Liberality for this Sisterhood Award.
It's about the Sisterhood between Bloggers and I'm very appreciative. It's nice to be included in a group of women who are very thought provoking. They lift my spirits. I'm going to pass it on to Comrade Kevin, even though he's not a woman, because he's so self-aware and emotionally insightful that he should be held up as an example to everyone - men and women alike - as a remarkable individual.