Regret?...not so much

Last night I had the urge to blog about something serious, something very revealing and very private. But I couldn’t get past the first paragraph. It’s one thing to admit I have demons that control me and quite another thing to put them out there for even friends to read.

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Earlier I was chatting with Ms. J about, well, life. And love. And relationships. And passion. And cheating. And regrets. I was surprised that she asked if I had ever cheated on a boyfriend, but more surprised at my response to her follow-up query: Were you sorry you did it? because I said NO. Wow! That was quite a whiplash, I tell you. Isn’t this something a normal person would and should regret? So why don’t I? It’s not like my boyfriend then deserved it because I firmly believe no one deserves such shoddy treatment. Plus it is my opinion that chicanery in any form is wrong.

I’ve long realized that what I did was contemptible. I’m not about to sugarcoat it and say it was pretty innocuous or that, since I managed to keep it secret from my beau, it didn’t hurt anyone, least of all my second boyfriend. (For a moment there I thought of referring to him as my lover but that would lend a salacious air to the affair, which would make me squirm.) In my mind to this day, it was just something that happened, period. Call it a lapse of judgment or temporary insanity, whatever. I just don’t regret it. I think that unseen forces in our universe connived to make it happen to introduce me to lessons I would later learn vicariously through some of my friends’ marital miseries: that cheating is neutral ground, and that there’s a lot more at stake if you do it while already married (and have children).

I don't blog...but I might

I’ve never been a big fan of blogging. I must come from some old-school where they teach you that any display of ego is just unacceptable, that you must be selfless (and conversely, “otherful”) if you want to earn a spot in heaven. Blogging to me is the ironic response to all the hoopla on privacy, so while others enact laws to protect individual privacy, bloggers continually shred the privacy curtain to pieces with an announcement and an invitation to read. In the end, however, I would tell you this: I’m just deathly scared of how others would perceive me based on my thoughts and ideas (which, by the way, veer on evil) and my seeming lack of mastery on the use of this language we call English. Petrified,  too, that the morality police would swoop down on me and, in one quick flourish, handcuff my hands (whose fingers now show signs of carpal tunnel) in order to prevent them from churning out pseudo-intellectual,  grammatically-incorrect and offensive material ever again. If you egg me, I would also tell you that I don’t blog because I am ashamed of the person I am, for reasons that will be revealed IF I continue blogging. Because I AM blogging now and surprised that I’m enjoying it. Maybe this holds promise. Maybe…and this is more likely…it’s just a passing fancy, one that I would tire of sooner than you can ask, “What’s next?” If I am to carry on, I must be able to overcome my fear of myself. And, boy, that won’t be an easy hurdle. My paranoia has grown to epic proportions; I have reason to believe I sabotage my own life. (For one thing I notice I haven’t separated my blog into paragraphs–why would anyone bother to read one continuous rant with no pauses in between? I run out of breath just thinking about it!) Another–more prosaic–reason why I think this attempt to blog would not last long nor succeed is this: Nothing in my life is worth your time to read. My life is trite, pedestrian, and unimaginative as unleavened bread (you’ll get no rise from me that’s for sure! hahaha)…
On the other hand, I’m known to surprise even myself for nuggets of wisdom I manage to contrive from my experiences; for humorous takes on otherwise insipid subjects; and for suspending an audience’s disbelief long enough to be heard.
Which brings me to this: In my life, I strive to do good. I say that all the time. Sadly, because I am human, I am constantly caught in a tug-of-war between good and evil and where, of late, the evil wins over the good. It’s nothing to be proud of. But for admitting that, I believe I have become a better person. So hang out with me, will ya, and see how I tip the balance.


(written August 30, 2008)