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Our old school-year carpool disbanded in June due to children going off in different directions, so I’ve been casting about this summer for a new gas-saving and time-saving way to get my child where she needs to be.
We hit upon a likely candidate in one of my daughter’s friends who lives several blocks from us. I’d spoken to the friend’s mother in the past, but I’d never been to her house until last week, when we went there for a post play date drop off.
I’d planned on inviting the mother over some morning so that we could get to know each other better, as her kids would be staying with me for a fraction of an hour before school each day. However, my heart fell when I pulled into her driveway and saw the McCain bumper sticker on her car next to the metallic fish emblem, as well as the small wooden cross placed directly above the doorbell.
“Rally!” I heard a calm voice say in my head, so I choked down the ever-present but completely irrational worry about being seen as a slut by everyone, not just my parents, and asked her over. I’m at fault for making the same sort of assumptions I fear others will make about me; when the visit rolled around we found much in common, including a difficult yet amicable divorce and a fervent desire to educate our daughters rationally about sex.
I have to wonder though if she would have been so accepting of me if she knew about my employment. I have to wonder this about all my friends who know little if anything about my means of support other than that it involves words and the internet. Would they still like me? Would they dump me immediately, or pull away gradually? Would they worry about allowing their children at my house?
Er…just for the record? I’ve moved the box of dildos to an even more secure location. And I’ve not yet begun the project to recycle my unwanted vibrators into an altogether unique wind chime.
It’s something I’ve struggled with since the inception of this blog. I want complete transparency. I want no appreciable disconnect between the online persona and the real life persona. I want nothing less than no secrets from anyone, anytime, anywhere. Not, you understand, no privacy…just no secrets.
But probably that’s way too much for me to hope.



