Can I call you all friends? I feel like we’re friends. I feel like I could sit across from almost any one of you and have a most spectacular day or evening together.
With some of you, I might sit across from you and down shots of tequila while we all pretend like we are surprised things are getting so crazy in a hurry.
With others of you, I might just sit quietly over a cup of Joe and talk about all the lovely people and things in the world.
Some of you might sit next to me and laugh and cry with me at our favorite movies or television shows.
Others of you I could see myself hiking with, or snowshoeing, and just enjoying the connection to the earth as well as the awesome conversation as we go.
With some of you, perhaps I’d laugh about completely inappropriate things all night long.
Maybe with some of you I would go out and serve meals to the homeless or find a way to rally for an awesome cause.
Maybe some of us would lean on each other for emotional support. We would rant about things, and share our struggles, and get out all our negatives with each other.
With some of you, I might enjoy a night playing group board games. With others of you, I might enjoy a night of backgammon, and with some of you, I might enjoy a more risqué type of game night.
And I don’t just say any of that. I really do feel like we’re all friends here (well, at least the vast majority of us), and I hope you feel the same about me.
Getting to this point hasn’t been easy. In fact, it’s been painstaking at times because when I started this blog, I started it all wrong.
When readers first began finding me, my entire goal became “keep the readers” and do it by “giving the readers whatever they want.”
Oh there was complete sincerity and honesty in all my posts, but I also only shared those parts of me that more and more people began to praise and come for. I became this almost perfect specimen of a human being because I shared only those parts of me that made me seem like I was so. Even when I shared my weaknesses back then, it was usually in a way that would make me look even more awesome for sharing them.
Man, people started coming in such big numbers, and many of them were awesome, but most of them came for a lot of the wrong reasons. They came because I was offering an environment where everyone could pretend like this “show only your best side” was actually a good thing to continually propagate. I don’t know how I began selling that (especially since hating “that” was what drove me to write The Disease Called “Perfection” in the first place), but I did, and the readership that rewards such ways of living and writing grew immensely.
Eventually, I looked around at what I had built here at Single Dad Laughing, and I felt so alone. I felt like I didn’t have a whole lot of real friends. I felt no different than I always had in these Utah neighborhoods I live in. I felt like it was just me, trying to appear more perfect than my neighbor who was always trying to appear more perfect than me.
And that sucked.
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