One of the funny things about the demimonde in which this blog exists – and the various demimondes in which I exist as N. Likes (Twitter, Google+, Tumblr, as well as OKCupid, SwingLifeStyle, and Craigslist) – is that there’s this simultaneous openness and honesty and complete secrecy. Many of us who exist in this demimonde do so pseudonymously. We rely on a certain type of anonymity in order to facilitate our honesty, our disclosure, our fun.
There’s something a bit disheartening, a bit disequilibratiing, about this to me. I end up feeling that there are these two authentic “me”s, each existing almost entirely detached from the other. Sure, N’ – the alter-ego for N. – has some friends, family, who know of the existence of N. Likes. Some know that my wife and I are monogamish, some know that I have a blog, some know both. But there’s no one – well, really, there are (I think) six people – who know/s both N. Likes and his alter ego.
I often find myself wondering about how this all works for other people: part of what is so liberating about blogging, about sharing myself in this way with you, is that prior to this, the universe of people with whom I was completely honest about my desires, about my sexuality, was confined to my wife and my shrink. And my wife only joined the crowd relatively recently.
For people who don’t blog, who aren’t exhibitionistic in the way that Violet & Rye, and Liza, and L, and I are, how do you handle the dysjunction between public you and private you? Is it “enough” for you to be “seen” sexually by just one or two other people? Do you crave more? Does the contrast between public you and private you rankle, cause discomfort, as it does for me? Or is it easy for you to tolerate? I’m curious….