Definitely suggest it:
So, I think I adopted out a cat today, finally. One of the older three, so that's excellent and exciting. After caring for them since they were born a year ago, it's big news! I won't know for SURE until Sunday, but it sounds like an extremely promising home. 🙂
Also today, I decided to take an aptitude test. A career one, I think. I was curious how much I have changed since I was a teenaged chatterbox telling everyone everything and surrounded by people I felt comfy being completely open with every day. I was also curious what employers see when I fill this stuff out.
It took me to question 15 out of four hundred and something before I realized i have become extremely private and alone. I am a million times more honest about EVERYTHING here, than I have been with anyone in my life, with the possible exception of my husband. I work non-stop, whether it pays or not. The only time I went on a social excursion in the past year or so was when Sir requested two of his friends accompany us to the bar when I found out my tarantula had passed away. Well, that isn't true, I did go to Austin once to visit a friend, but she had just been dumped and I wanted to be there for her. And she really needed…um…something… so hey, I was there to help.
I wonder if I can be honest about that here, too? I'm bi and poly – I still take an interest in girls and yes, Sir knows and encourages it. No, I'm not a slut, yes, I've had actual relationships with girls, no, I wasn't just drunk, and yes, I've dated both him and a her at the same time, and no, it didn't cause any huge jealousy issues.
Anyways. That person is my best friend, was my maid of honor, and still doesn't know much about me. We talk every night, but I can't tell her anything. I can count the friends I speak to on one hand and I can't be honest when talking with them, either. I wonder if, in trying to accomodate those who have told me they just. didn't. care. anymore, if I have become TOO guarded. Hell, since I was a kid I've had honesty used against me. My mum would hear me listening to a slow song and call me a melodramatic princess, a drama queen. She'd be nice and I would open up, and a week or two later she'd quote me sarcastically, turn it around, use it like a weapon. You show a single crack, a single instance of weakness, and it will come up, sooner or later. Then my friends, one by one, got tired of hearing it. The good, the bad, the everything.
My life consists of a lot of things people just don't care about. So I keep it to myself. It's nobody's business, right? It's impolite to talk about yourself, to probably misquote Mad Men.
If I got hit by a car, for the love of god, no one would really know who I WAS, for real, inside, who I truly was. That freaks me out a little bit. My husband knows me best. He knows how hard I try, he knows I am a good person. To everyone else, I'm an ear and a resume.
If my life were a book it would be incredibly interesting, but to meet me on the street, well, I'd be just another face in the crowd.