I have been under so much pressure to start blogging again. Especially since my sabbatical on social media is over. It wasn’t a stunt. I didn’t declare am leaving social media. I didn’t deactivate my account. I dropped by on some days to congratulate friends, like posts, catch up on what’s happening. Because without facebook, I wouldn’t know what’s happening. The social media sabbatical didn’t change my life in any way. I didn’t feel a void or boredom. Getting back hasn’t changed anything either. It was there. Then it wasn’t. Now it is there again.
The reason I haven’t posted is because I didn’t feel like it. When life seems dark and dreary, all you want to do is escape. I didn’t want to talk about it on the blog since living through it was nightmarish enough. People close to me already knew what was going on. It wasn’t a secret, I just didn’t want to talk about it on social media and the blog.
Yesterday I met a friend from twitter. We had been planning to meet up for a year now and finally my funny tweets overtook his laziness and flakiness (just kidding. Am not funny enough to overpower laziness). The meeting was memorable because while hailing an auto for me, he asked me my name. HE HAD FORGOTTEN MY NAME. This is such a momentous occasion that I have to document it.
Halfway through our conversation he said; “You are prettier in real life”. I replied, dripping with sarcasm, “as opposed to? Social media?”. Sorry, but being a bitch comes so naturally. I turn 34 years in a few days and the compliment didn’t warm me or make me happy. It is nice to be at a stage in life where you know being pretty or good looking has no impact on life. In fact, anyone can turn pretty. Just get a good body. You can’t change your face but you can change your body. And being fit and strong at 40 yrs is so much more fun and gets more attention that at 20 yrs.
He paid for our drinks (non alcoholic) and didn’t have a reply to “Why are you paying?”. Rarely do I get to pay the entire bill as a woman when am meeting a guy for the first time. Either the guy pays or we go dutch. What are the rules? I prefer going dutch. Why should a man pay or offer to pay?
Anyway…. keep up the pressure so I can get back to writing regularly.