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17 February 2015, 20:02

I went through and deleted a bunch of columns, and edited some things out.

It was very telling what I chose to delete. What I was comfortable once in telling the world, I no longer am, so it got erased. Psychologically, I’m not sure why. And there were things I wanted to delete, but felt guilty in doing so.

So you tell me why I did or did not delete some material.

First of all, I deleted any material referring to me casually dating. I don’t know. It all felt kind of sorted to have it up there. Like dating (or the implication of more) was wrong, and to do it, cast me in a shameful light. Crazy, I know. And not there was a lot to delete. Apparently, I dated very little. Dating and sex is bad and dirty. At least, according to my mom. She lived in fear that I would be interested in boys/men, and denigrated any feelings I might have that had semblance of curiosity in that area. I have HYPER-SHAME when it comes to dating, sex, etc. And the weird thing is, that for a very short time in North Carolina, I didn’t. I let most all of it hang out, talking comfortably of a date I had, or that I had nice legs, or that I looked cute.

Next on the chopping block was references to myself referring to me as sexy. Any references to garnering men’s attention, or being sexually appealing. Another shame spike for me. I don’t know why. Well. Yeah. Yeah, I do. MY MOTHER AGAIN. She instilled a hypersensitivity in regards to my sexuality or my attractiveness. Anything to do with sex or the enjoyment of my own attractiveness was bad, slutty, or dirty. I think I have an overly developed sense of obligated modesty. I don’t dare say that I’m sexy or [complementary adjective for physical attractiveness] for fear of people saying “oh, who do you think you are?” I have NO problem in people thinking I’m smart, clever, funny, talented or skilled. I do, however, find that complements on my appearance or attractiveness makes me almost panicked. I am guarded against anyone thinking that I might actually feel that I am sexy or pretty. Fucked up, eh? Yup. Thanks, Mom.

I also hacked and slashed almost everything out about significant exes. It’s just the embarrassment of it all. The embarrassment of having such bad judgment in choosing, what turned out to be, two giant losers. Weak men who eventually displayed a monumental amount of character flaws are not ones I’d ever wanted to be associated with and yet, I had feelings – deep feelings for such men. That embarrasses me to no end. I don’t ever want people to think I was so stupid, gullible or naive to choose such people. And in the end, the people you choose reflect what sort of person you are – at least in my mind – and what does it say about me that I picked these bottom feeders?

The last bit of deletion I wanted to do is hard to explain and hard to justify. I felt that I wanted to excise a lot of Ken references. For some reason, I didn’t feel they should be up there. But I didn’t because, it wouldn’t be right. He was a big part of my life, and not a bad part. I don’t know if this doesn’t also go back to my mother. I am in a serious relationship right now, probably the one that will last the rest of my life, and some fucked up thing in my brain says that I shouldn’t now have TWO men. I KNOW, this is the irrational part. It’s dirty and slutty to have (had) two significant men. Yes, my rational brain knows that Ken is gone. Yes, my rational brain knows that it isn’t a betrayal to Doug to have Ken’s memory in existence. Yes, my rational brain knows it isn’t a betrayal to Ken to have a relationship with Doug. And yes, my rational brain knows that I don’t actually HAVE two men – unless keeping the ashes of one in a box in the closet counts. The irrational part of my brain, I would assume thinks that there is only one partner for each person and that maybe you can’t have two real partners? I don’t know. It’s convoluted and weird or maybe its an overdeveloped sense of loyalty. It’s probably because of my mother, too.

Anywho, a lot of things were culled and deleted. For better or worse, I cut a lot loose. So, hey if you didn’t read it the first time, you’d probably have to get on the wayback machine to read it now.