The life & times of dating a blogger.
I always wondered what it would be like to date me. I mean, well… I started this blog when I was single, without a potential gentleman in sight. And for years, and months and moments I wrote out exactly how I was feeling. Exactly who I am. The good, the bad and the ugly. And I was open on this bloggy. So open. Like if you read my words here you probably knew (know) me better than most of my in real-life friends.
So yea. It was always something I wondered. How could someone date me, date me with a blog?
At what point would I tell this eventual soul about this little corner of the Internet? Did I really want him to be able to read my archives? See my history with other guys? My scandals? The old, big photos of me? Gasp.
And then I met Matt. And I met him because of this blog. Because someone he met while travelling the States sent him One Twenty Five. So right from the start, he knew. He knew I wanted to lose weight. He knew I was once bigger. Am bigger than average. He read a few posts. And he saw my photos. And still, he emailed me (smart boy!).
And phew. That made things easier. Him knowing. Him reading. Him seeing and then still wanting to be with me. I always figured this blog would scare a lot of people away. Make guys nervous to like me, but with Matt it didn’t, and I appreciated that. I do appreciate that. He likes me. The good, the bad and the ugly me.
But it’s challenging, and a learning process, that is having a blog with a boyfriend. Especially as I have a weeee, little tendency to be all like, oh-hai-there-world, look-at-me, this-is-how-I’m-feeling-at-this-moment-in-time, and sometimes, writing about what I feel wouldn’t be fair to him. And then sometimes I feel the desire to write, to stay up late and get it all out, to write like I used to in the baby months of this blog. At 3am when I can’t sleep. When I’m brutally honest with myself and the world. But Matt is here. Next to me. Fast asleep. And I lay in his arms and think… as opposed to finding comfort from a screen.
But in the beginning when I had just met him, and in the beginning when I had recently gained most of my weight back, I wanted to write all the time. Write about how I wouldn’t - couldn’t - post my current weight, because I was terrified I weighed more than him. I wanted to write about what it was like to take my clothes off with him (in a non-sleazy way, of course). How scared I was. How after some seriously extensive
Facebook creeping non-paid private investigation work I quickly saw how I was easily the biggest girl he had ever been with. How I was shaking. How I was so nervous. How I sucked in until it hurt. How I never wanted him to see me with the lights on.
And I’ve wanted to write how he now makes me feel. Like the sexiest, hottest, most attractive person in the world. How (and this is silly, but…) before I met him, had a fire erupted in the middle of the night and I was sleeping naked I would have searched my room for clothes amid the flames before venturing outside, because ohmygod-what-if-somebody-saw-me. And now? Now I’d run the hell out of there all va-va-vooom, here I come, and probably not even notice I was naked, because ummm, my house is on fire. And that’s thanks to him.
Matt has taught me so much. About relationships, myself, and us. And I like us. He’s made me feel sexy when I thought I was huge, he’s made me realize how it’s the way I treat a situation, or smile at him, or listen to his stories, or get big eyes when I’m excited about something; those are the things he loves about me (as per him telling me).
And how it’s got nothing to do with the size on my jeans, or how I can’t fit that or this dress, or my love handles, or weight, or double chins…
But rather the person I am, embedded deep within. I wish I could tell my 20-year-old self that. Oh how much time & thought I would have saved her. How if you’re with a good person, the right person for you at that moment in time, it becomes nothing to do with weight or size, but rather feelings. How they make you feel. And you make them feel.
Dear Matt, I love you and will always be so thankful to you for showing me how awesome I am on the inside, haha, and I laugh, but really just thank you for being you, and thank you for liking me (me!)! (and ps I’m sorry about this post, as I type this from my iPhone in your arms at 3am).
Also, Matt actually rarely reads this blog - to give me my own space. Good boy - so I’m not sure he’ll see this.