Recently, Debauchette reprinted a comment I made on her blog a while back, and some of the traffic she’s been getting recently has made its way to me.
First of all, I want to thank some of you for the nice entreaties you’ve made for me to continue writing. But I don’t think I can. First, I’m not sure that I’m cut out for the blogging lifestyle. Autobiographical blogging requires a certain solipsism to be done on a continuous basis, and I’d much rather read and write about other people.
Second, my boyfriend “found” my blog – not that I didn’t make it easy for him to do – but he’s not completely comfortable with my past and certainly not comfortable with me writing about it in the present. I don’t want to make the rift between us even wider.
I still stand by everything I wrote, so I intend to leave the blog here for the time being. I’d like to wish Debauchette all the best. She’s an enormously gifted writer, and I fully expect she’ll surmount this difficult situation and go on creating a (sexy) body of work that only gets better and better over time.
We Americans are a strange people. We buy Abercrombie and Fitch thongs designed for ten year old girls, but when adult women make adult choices about their lives, we’re up in arms, Taliban-style. It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me.