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"The Virgin" finds my website

{excerpt from memoir number three}

July 25, 2015 The Virgin finds my website

Holy crap. The Virgin - one of my new clients from earlier this year found my website! He emailed me. The subject line: “Nice article”. Inside, he explained that he found my website and asked if I would change a few facts. He was afraid some people would know it was him. I was mortified. I felt bad. I never expected him to read this very personal story about himself. It’s a good lesson in being more careful and mindful. As I’ve said, this is a tell-all about myself and my experience. Which is why I don’t use people’s names and I am careful not to mention specifics (what they do for a living or how they look). But I forget that some details could possible tip someone off. That said, most people wouldn’t put two and two together when reading the story. It’s easy to freak out when reading about yourself. It’s much more anxiety inducing when you know it’s you. But I totally understand. He had no idea I was a writer. I chose not to tell him. One, because it wasn’t essential to what he was paying me for, and two, I already have clients who read my Instagram/website and it limits the things I post and say. Which annoys the ever-living-fuck out of me. Honestly, when I wrote the pieces about him, I hadn’t planned on posting them, but then I did. I responded immediately with an apology, and I edited the piece. I asked him how he found it. Nothing is connected to me by name or email address. He thinks my name is Shannon!

He was sweet about it (thank god). He gave me cute A, B, C, D, E options as to how he came across my work. One of which was that a friend of his is a fan of mine. Small world. I’m not trying to out or embarrass clients. Obviously, some of my feelings and explicit details will be uncomfortable for the person in the story to read. I write about my life. I suppose at some point everyone will know and will either have to ask me not to write about them or accept it. Interestingly, a few men have wanted to meet me with the explicit hope that I'd write about them. One of my recent stories was requested to be posted by the guy. It’s extremely intimate stuff. I can only imagine what it’s like to read my blow-by-blow point of view.

Thankfully I hadn’t written anything mean. I’m not a vindictive or bitter memoirist. Jaded, yes. I mostly try to shed light on my inadequacies, my bullshit, and the general absurdity of life. I gave him props for having a good dick. That’s something, right? He didn’t appear to be too upset. Perhaps a little uncomfortable. P.S. his friend didn’t know he’d seen me, he just likes my writing. He thanked me for editing the piece, and asked me if I had weekend plans. I said I was free but didn’t ask him if he wanted to meet up (as I normally would). I figured the ball was in his court. I emailed him again a couple days later. A straightforward thanks for not being mad at me. I was going to say more. Something like “I’m sure it was tough to read about such a personal scene...” but decided against it. Keep it simple and all that. I don’t want to get into a whole discussion. I just wanted him to know I’m not a bad person. And leave the door open in case he ever wanted to see me again. Which, I admit, would be a modern miracle, but you never know.

Author’s note (2015): I haven’t seen him. He asked if I could recommend someone in Orange county. The door was still ajar as far as I was concerned...but I recently posted our second hookup so I might be dead to him now, it’s anybody’s guess.

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