This morning I am going to take a step outside my comfort zone. I am going to talk about personal stuff. My nose is literally crunched up as I type as if there is a terrible smell in the room. There is not really a bad smell of course–it is just an involuntary Pavlov’s reaction for me to type about inner feelings and such. I am, after all, a heterosexual male. It is my duty as a man to be repulsed by this whole exercise. (This whole exercise I am voluntarily constructing on my own initiative with no obligation or outside coercion whatsoever.)
I struggle with how much to share on this blog. I know I am using a secret alias name, so in a way I am typing anonymously. But some real-life confidants know about this blog, so it could come back to me…how much or how little to confess is something I am going to struggle with.
Can you tell I am planner? A very deliberate person who tries to calculate his every move?–I think I will be writing about this particular personality trait often.
I think I will also write about impulse control sometime–something my personality profile says I struggle with. That doesn’t go very well with deliberate does it? — Oh the contradictions that make us all human! And, in the case of us bloggers who are reflective, the contradictions that constantly fuck with our heads!
Today I want to write about the “marriage purgatory” that I have been stuck in for two years. (Again, very bizarre confessing something this personal in a blog. But yet in some ways telling hundreds of online strangers about this is less scary than telling one close friend in person.) (Also, on a side note, a cool thing about a blog is that I can use parenthesis to type whatever sarcastic sidebar comment I want without an Editor scolding me poor grammar.)
(I can type in short paragraphs too. Which is unconventional, but the way I like to write. Ha! ha! ha! grammar snobs…look at me doing it my way!—bt hey, @ lEst I do not wrte lIk DIS aL d tym. lIk most d younger rednecks do on POF.) But I digress…
What is Marriage Purgatory? Marriage Purgatory is when you know your relationship is done but still live in the same house.
NOTE: Well, as some of you will recall, I gave myself a 750 word per post quota when I started this blog. 75o words is a tight limit for those of us afflicted with diarrhea of the keyboard like I am. I appear to have once again exceeded my quota, so will break this up into multiple parts. My apologies to those of you who are currently thinking “Will this guy please get to the fucking point!?”.