A few days ago, I mentioned something to my husband that I had blogged about, and he admitted that he has never read my blog. This didn’t surprise me because he doesn’t really enjoy reading, and I’ve always kind of gotten the impression that he thinks the whole endeavor is a little bit silly. He went on to explain why he doesn’t read it by saying, “Did Ruth Westheimer’s husband read her blog? I mean, it’s probably just as well that he didn’t and I don’t. That’s what it’s all about, right, letting it all hang out?”
First of all, I didn’t know Ruth Westheimer even had a blog. Second, I don’t recall her ever talking intimately about her husband. And third, at that point, I hadn’t really said all that much about my husband in my blog, much less letting anything “hang out,” but now I take his “don’t ask, don’t tell” attitude as implicit consent!
It had never been my intention to air any laundry in my blog, but once I really sat down and started planning things to write about, I realized that I felt a little ham-stringed by the fact that I had told everyone in my family about my blog. Talking about my family would be a rich source of material, but I’m fairly certain that none of them want anything hanging out. And despite my husband channeling Mr. Westheimer, there are still lines that just shouldn’t be crossed (especially if there is any chance at all of those whom are hung out reading about it). And lord knows I don’t want to be hanging out.
Now that I’ve learned the basic mechanics of creating a blog, I’ve considered starting an entirely different one, one that my family doesn’t know about, so I could really let it all hang out. But, you know, maybe there’s a bit too much of that on the Internet. Maybe if everyone wrote with the presumption that his or her grandma, future employer, and next-door neighbor might someday realize whose dirty laundry it is, the Internet would be a whole lot better place.