I have access to his blog. Not just to read it, but I have my own password and stuff. We have written a post together, a story actually.
His blog is one of my many open tabs on my phone. Together with my blog and memes I try to participate it and porn. I don’t open it often, so every now and then I have to log in again.
I apperiate the trust he shows me with giving me access to his blog. Just recently I was reminded how special it is. My blog for me is something very intimate. Many of my posts are things I could never express in my everyday life. But my drafts are even more intimate. Some are just work-in-progress, but others are thoughts that needed to be written down. Yet they aren’t for the public eye.
The other day I wrote a post and wasn’t sure whether I was too mean or not mean enough. He asked me whether I’d want him to have a look and I said yes. I assumed he’d just log onto my blog, him being my tech guy and all. But he asked permission first. Of course I didn’t assume that he was hanging around my blog waiting to see what I write, but I found that to be extremely respectful. It also almost made me feel a bit bad. Almost….
There’s a draft on his blog.
Every now and then I scroll through my tabs and and open his blog or I do it because I have been planning it all along. There’s a draft I want to read, but I also know that by doing so I invade his privacy. I do see the other drafts, even if it’s only the title.
But back to that one draft. He had written it about six weeks before we met for the first time and the first paragraph read like this:
So this post is probably only going to be read by two people. Me and you my love. So be prepared for mushy and wandering thoughts.
BTW, I was not disappointed. Mushy and wandering his thoughts were. He goes on and what he writes is just between the two of us. But I wanted to share how I love going back and rereading this post. Now, more than a year later and what feels like a different universe, it still make me feel loved and cherished and adored. I smile as I read his words, I shake my head, I nod, I sigh.
I think tonight, as I go to sleep, I will read his words again and fall asleep with a smile on my face, thinking of him.
It’s nice to feel loved and adored.
Maybe he wants your approval before publishing.
Sometimes he does. But in that case it was written his his any my eyes only.