One of my wife’s friends told me yesterday that she reads this blog daily and feels like she has an oddly intimate relationship with me as a result.
Then she said that there have been times when she has told my wife that she loved something I wrote on my blog, only to discover that Elysha never read it.
Elysha acknowledged this to be true.
Fear not, dear reader. Only a tiny part of me died at that moment. There’s still plenty left of me for her to kill.
Later, while playing poker with friends and strangers, a guy sitting across the table (who I had just met) turned to my friend, pointed and me, and began whispering.
“What?” I asked, irritated. “What did I do?”
After a moment, he turned back to me, smiling, and said, “You’re the Matthew Dicks? The writer? You wrote Something Missing? And the yellow book, too?”
“Yes,” I said. “That’s me.”
It was a nice moment for me. It doesn’t happen often.
A moment later, a friend at the other end of the table chimed in:
“My kids actually read his books. I mean… I don’t read them, but my kids do!”
Lesson of the day:
The closer you are to me, the less likely you are to care about anything I have to say.
And I’m not going to lie. It hurts a little.
I may have to write mean things about my closest friends that they will never read.
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Your blog is the second one I have ever wanted to follow, (the first is my son’s.) I’ve heard it in your workshops and read it here: You’re honesty and openness about yourself and how you feel no matter how revealing and personal (Elysha’s friend had it right), is refreshing and appealing. I am relatively new to Connecticut and came knowing no one except our family and have found it difficult to find anyone beyond them who will go deeper than their epidermis You give me hope that a) there are people in this part of the country who are willing to relate on a much more intimate level and that b) I’ll be able to find more of them. My son (not the one who writes a blog) and his wife who live here have warned me that I share too much of myself, and if I want to make friends, I need to keep my feelings to myself. They’re good at it, I am not, nor do I want to be. So thank you for giving me hope by sharing who you are at any given moment.
Thanks, Judith. That means a lot.