You know what?
I think, next time I go to a party and then want to write a report, I will switch things up a bit. I’ll post a couple of pictures (and make sure to include butt ones this time), and then I’ll write: “A good time was had by all. The end.”
Because fuck it. Any more than that and people’s eyes glaze over, according to the dearth of reads and comments on my last report. Why bother with remembering details, sequences and anecdotes? They are of little interest, on here and on FetLife as well.
And I think I should probably cut way back on the candid revelations of my vulnerabilities/insecurities. No one wants to read about Erica and her silly meltdowns and melodramas. They’re all dealing with their own stuff, their own lives.
To add insult to injury, something in my latest report (which has since been edited) ended up offending a friend. It was completely unintentional, I feel dreadful, and I have apologized profusely, but the damage is done. Yet another case for just shutting the hell up.
I’ll be more careful about the pictures I post and where I post them. On Facebook, I put up one of the glamour shots John took of me in the corset, because it was sexy but tasteful. The very first comment that appeared? “Naughty Granny.”
Of course, many people added their thoughts and compliments and likes after that, and a few of them had choice words for the man who called me a granny. I appreciated it all. But no amount of sweetness could eradicate the nasty taste left by that first comment.
Party drop? Sure. It’s bad. But I’m not posting this in the throes of post-party roller coaster. I thought about it all day yesterday, while the crickets were chirping.
So, I guess the tradition of post-party tomes has aged out, in the age of photos, instant likes, and little else. Noted.