Here is a story about something meaningless. Perhaps you’ve heard it before.
One upon a time, I had an extremely popular blog going on Myspace…a once extremely popular site. My name was “The Gringo Gentile” – random words I strung together much as I did with the equally ridiculous “Fate Jacket X.”
Nonetheless, the fun I had posting twice a week or so was enriching and provided me with my fix to create, to write, to socialize, to share. I took it seriously because, as a writer, it needed to happen. Screenplays and Yelp reviews weren’t enough and committing to a novel would’ve been to wage war on my ADD. And since Harper’s and Salon kept friendzoning my short stories, blogging won.
Then blogging lost. As I’m newly returned to the blog-o-sphere, I don’t know what to expect, but back in 2007, it was a sexy place. Female bloggers and commenters who liked me (without ever meeting me in person) didn’t hesitate to splash my page with sexual innuendo. The lurkers would send messages filled with flat-out perversion. And a topless photo or phone number request was normal for the inbox. After awhile, I’d just accepted it as the culture while not really entertaining it. You see, I was madly in love with my wife.
But after months of seething over flirty online comments, she’d grown jealous and could no longer bottle the rage. I knew how she was shortly after we started dating, but grew to love her and that was that. In fact, the things those online ladies liked about me were the very same traits that lured my wife. I felt it unreasonable that she could think that those few personality wins would simply cap around anyone but herself. Yes, there it was – the ultimatum: the blog or the wife.
She won; she beat the blog. And then six years later, the bitch left me. But that’s a different story.
Sure, I missed writing and I missed those connections, some of which I’d renew through Facebook. All of a sudden KittieVicious was Renee’. The Fearless Ferret was just…Doug. It was strange knowing these nutcase blog-folk as real people composing themselves across FB’s vast landscape of accountability. In fact, if someone I knew from the old days tried to add me with a pseudonym, I refused.
Over time I’d be told stories. About Daryl-Ain’t-Right ruining his marriage because he banged Sweet Jess. Another story about C.B.K. traveling 780 miles to fuck JustJen and then she tried to kill him because he wouldn’t leave his wife. One story after another about Myspace bloggers fucking the shit out of each other and burning over it. Those gals must’ve thought I was an oddball prude! How DARE I refuse to send penis pics?? Hmmm…I thought maybe my wife was right to be apprehensive.
But she was wrong. I got no credit for being that oddball prude. Nurse Becky and Vic Vodka having a 3-way in Vegas with xXxDanellaxXx had nothing to do with me. The writer has to write! Simple as that. Never again will I let anyone get in the way of my expression. And, so I’m back. Back with two middle fingers raised high, thinking out loud over the Web, arrogantly convinced that people give a shit about what I have to say. But it doesn’t matter either way…as long as we can get our fix without killjoys fucking up the buzz, it’s all good.
p.s. – I should note that I’m no longer friends with like 80% of those Myspace refugees. Turned out they’re all insane. Yes, internet people are batshit crazy. 0.O