Where we draw our lines is so highly variable, and so vitally communicative about who, and how, we are. Lines that feel vitally important to me feel eminently transparent to others; lines that feel irrelevant, insignificant to me feel desperately important to others. And I find empathy – an emotion at which I generally excel – somewhat elusive around this issue.
I write intimate details about my sexuality, and my sex life. I write things some people would rather die than speak aloud. For me, the very writing of them makes me feel truly alive. And yet there is much I keep private: I do not write about my wife, our relationship, or our sex, except incidentally when discussing my or our sex with others. And while I write endlessly about certain acts, certain partners, there are others you will never read about.
Why does it feel affirming to me to share my experiences and thoughts with you, and terrifying or nauseating or simply unappealing to others?
I don’t really have answers to these questions, but I’m intrigued by them. Where do you draw your lines? How? Why?