Well, well, well. Seems I got a little too big for my britches. Just as I was sliding into home, not a care in the world, over this blog, onto the next, in fact, I get busted by a suitor.
Frenchman found the blog and found it quickly. I don't think his date was up for more than 24 hours before he found it. Weird, huh? Here is a breakdown of what went down:
My Israeli male friend (whom we'll call Kibbutz as he's private) came over while I made egg salad.
My phone made the sound it makes when indicating that I have a text.
Frenchman said he was reading the blog, and don't ask how he found it, but he's very "intuitive."
I have a minor freak-out as Kibbutz laughed his ass off.
Frenchman seemed upset, but then proceeded to read the entire blog and enjoyed it. (He didn't say he loved it, but he also doesn't seem angry.)
As the night continued, I occasionally received texts from Frenchman commenting on certain entries. Also, as a former psychoanalytic student, he may be worried about my mental health.
Here are the theories:
Frenchman always knew about the blog, and I've been bamboozled.
He's not even French, and I've REALLY been taken for a ride.
Someone has a lot of time to peruse search engines as my full name isn't on this thing. (Thankfully, for him, it was before the SOPA/PIPA fiasco.)
I have accidentally befriended him on a social network.
I'm not as smart as I think I am. (This one is a given.)
The part that confuses me is the intuitive comment. During my 2 Proseccos and witty banter, how did I subconsciously deliver, "I have a blog called www.30dates30blogs.blogspot.com and you're in it?" How does intuition play a factor in this at all? Thank God there isn't an intuitive event in the Olympics, because the French would kick our asses ladies and gentlemen.
As you have probably surmised, Frenchman is also reading this entry. I told him, and I will tell you all too, I think Frenchman is a lovely person. It is not my intention to hurt anyone's feelings. As a matter of fact, it is the last thing I want to do. Well, the last thing I want to do is kill someone. Or accidentally get pregnant at my age, as I'd have to keep it. But hurting feelings is definitely in the top 5 things I don't want to do. Ever. But alas, I am a journalist and must journal. Peace be with you all, and let's get this blog over with now that my cover has been blown.