The cat is out of the bag

Last night, I headed on over to an area of Paris where I rarely go for a lovely bloggers' cocktail/soirée organized by the hostess with the mostess. I had such a great time catching up with friends, finally meeting a few great bloggers I've wanted to meet for a while as well as meeting a whole new batch of bloggy newcomers. It's been a while since I've hung around with newcomers to Paris and it really was a breath of fresh air.

Despite all of the fun however, I have to admit I was slightly apprehensive about attending.  As some of the early readers may remember, up until last night, C did not really know I had a blog. Or I take that back - I wasn't really sure if he knew I had a blog. Several people have mentioned it in front of him in the past, but he never said anything to me, so I figured either he didn't understand or he didn't care.  Certain people out there *ahem* have insinuated that I was a bad wife for not telling him, but my blog is, and always has been, MY space.  Even my family and friends back home don't know about it - let me explain a little bit....

It all dates back to 2005, when I started blogging.  Unlike many bloggers out there, I wasn't writing to inform my family of my French adventures, nor trying to get a book deal, nor trying to meet people. At that point, I had been in France for over two years. I was so sad and so frustrated with my life and not being able to fit in, and I kept unloading it all on Fab every night when he came home.  That wasn't fair, so my writing began as a way to get all of that frustration out before he came home (especially as I felt I had to keep up a front of "everything is going great" to people back home, so I couldn't really talk to them either). 

As an unexpected benefit, people started commenting and sharing their experiences too, and it ended up being a huge eye-opener for me - I wasn't the only one going through this kind of stuff.  I'd spent so long wondering what was wrong with me, and why I couldn't adapt, and it was a huge weight off of my shoulders to realize that it was normal.  The community that came out of my old blog days really was incredible - many of them are no longer blogging or no longer in France, but they still deserve a shout-out - you guys cheered me up on a lot of lonely days.

And then when I moved to Paris, that same community provided me with a built-in network of friends, who essentially "knew" me without ever having met me. It was a bit odd at first, to be meeting strangers who knew so much about my life, but again, their support was a lifesaver to me in a very difficult time. I don't know what I would have done had I had to explain what happened with Fab to every single person I met. But as time went on, I found myself self-censoring. Losing my anonymity had its benefits friend-wise, but it also had a cost - I suddenly felt less comfortable sharing certain things.  I mean, the whole point of my blog was to share things I didn't necessarily want to share with those around me, and now those two worlds were mixing....

So all of this is a lot of background for explaining why I had yet to tell C about my blog.  Even though I no longer use it for the same purpose, I've still held on to the idea that it is my private place. Which is why I don't promote it, why I don't have a fan page and why I don't often write for other sites. If people stumble across it and can identify with some of what I write, tant mieux - but I'm not going to go looking for additional readers.

Now, I'm sure many of you are wondering what happened when C found out. Obviously, I realized that by going to a party where literally everyone was a blogger, it was very likely that he would officially hear about it. And after thinking about it for a while though, I came to the conclusion that he wouldn't care. C is so good about encouraging me to have my own interests and my own friends, and I was pretty darn sure he would understand my wanting to have a jardin secret*....

And thank goodness I was right.  Poor Lindsey was there to see the slightly awkward moment when it connected in C's brain that I still had a blog, but he just said "Oh I didn't know" and the conversation moved on.  He didn't ask me anything about it for the rest of the night, so on the way home in the metro, I asked if he minded that I hadn't told him.  He straightaway said "No, because I wouldn't read it anyways". I then gave him the short version of what I've written here and that was that.

Would I still rather he didn't know?  Yes, probably.  But I am glad that my gut instinct was right and that he understood and respected my reasons for not sharing.

*The French concept of having a "secret garden" is one I really identify with. The idea behind is that everyone should have their own secret hobby or passion, a place to go or something they do that is theirs and theirs alone. Plus it's a much better option than the other French national pastime of having an affair...