Since, for the bulk of my adult life, I was securely ensconced in a serious relationship with a young man of similarly unblemished record, I have never before this year been placed in the role of ex-girlfriend, or new girlfriend, or, by extension, poisoner or usurper. It is very uncomfortable. It rankles that I, the most mild-mannered and open-bookish of women, am by my very existence now the potential target of cattiness and Googling and e-stalking. (Not to say this has happened; I'm just aware that now it's a possibility. And it doesn't help to know that, at the click of a mouse (?) there are available at least a score of photos in which I'm hideous enough to reassure even the most insecure old/new girlfriend.)
I hope anyone who harbors such resentments will be comforted by this blog, which shows me to be a non-threatening idiot, albeit an adorable one.
The thing is, I always feel a kinship with anyone who's cared for a man peculiar enough to have won my affection. But I guess not everyone feels that way. Gosh! A hundred years ago, none of this was an issue; folks didn't have artificially intertwined lives and unofficial marriages or any of these things which give other people access to pieces of your souls. Maybe it is still this way amongst the Amish?