Public Market Confessional

I've been thinking about the importance of the blog in my life, whether it's ridiculous that I'm doing this at all, and the consequences of sharing a lot of personal information on the internet. It's both empowering, and increases my vulnerability, but not quite as vulnerable as the result of this chance meeting the other day...

I met a friend for coffee. We'll call him, Frank, because Frank is like my favorite name and he's like my favorite guy. He's 43, and has a pretty good handle on things. I tell him about my life, he gives me honest and useful feedback. It's great. We met up at the Public Market House, a place I haven't seen much of since Kate Digby Skinner left.

It had been a few months since we'd caught up, and I had a lot to talk about. Mostly my love life- a lot about what I'm looking for, what's gone wrong in the past. I'm literally, pouring my heart out, talking about my insecurities and my frustrations and details about my renewed singledom. And this guy sits down right behind me, who I know from karaoke. I don't know him well, just a familiar face attached to a name. I karaoked a Todd Rundgren song once, and he really liked it, which is basically all of our interactions at this point. It seems like the best idea for me is to try and ignore him, that way, I can continue my earnest conversation.

This guy gets up to leave after about an hour, and Frank makes eye contact. He and Frank have an awkward interaction for about a second, when Frank motions to me, then points to this guy. THANKS, FRANK! I give a half smile to be polite, say something about how it's a small town and it's nice to see him, and turn back to my conversation.

A bit later, Frank and I leave, deciding to meet up in a few weeks. This guy, however, shows up at Bayside Bowl a few nights later, walks straight up to me and confesses that he couldn't help but listen to everything I said, once he realized it was me. There was honestly, no more than four inches between the back of my chair and the back of his chair. What was I supposed to do? Ask him what exactly he heard and his thoughts? That seemed even worse than the awkward interaction we were already having. Apologize that he overheard? Ask him to not tell anyone? It wasn't my fault, I was there first. He should've kept to himself the fact that he was eavesdropping. It was none of his business, and Frank owes me big time- if he didn't initiate an interaction between the two of us, he wouldn't have been able to tell me he heard anything, because I could've maintained that I didn't know he was there. I know I can be pretty candid, but there were a lot of things I said in the confines of that coffeeshop I don't want just want just anyone to know. It was LiveJournal kind of shit.

At one point, Frank had asked me why I don't go out with that guy, since he clearly likes me by the way he was awkwardly standing there waiting to get my attention (Frank's words, not mine.) I brush him off, because I don't find this guy attractive, in the least. So he asked, why not? The answer isn't lengthy or complicated, I just don't, which led to me explaining in great detail how I might not know what I want in a potential life partner, because I believe people can be compatible in a lot of ways, but I have a pretty decent idea of what I don't want. Frank thinks I should use the blog as a platform for advertising these qualifications, but then pointed out that it's possible the blog could be standing in the way of my quest for true love. My thoughts are, it's a silly, irrelevant blog. And you know what else? Blogging is a lot like writing!


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