I mean, my usual behavior just has to change at some point, right? Isn’t the definition of insanity doing the same thing over, and over..and over? Actually, it’s not. I just looked it up, and it’s fucking not. Who said that? You idiots, someone in my lifetime told me that was the definition…and now I look like a moron on my own blog. Thank you very much, assheads. Whatever, I need to make a change, and so right now it’s happening. Get ready! But it is going to be really, really difficult because I tell you like almost everything. I do. I spill my guts on here! I tell you when I breathe. When I piss; when I bleed. I tell you all my secrets. All of them. I never hold back. It’s just who I am, and what I live for…
But for the first time ever, I’m NOT going to tell you about a guy.
That’s right, you heard me! No deets for you. Nada. Zilch. Because for the very first time in the history of The Truth Hurvitz, I don’t want to share him. I really just don’t. I want to keep him all to myself, and if that bothers you, so be it! I was sitting across from him at Starbucks, and thinking to myself, “Self, you have got yourself one fucking amazing fella. Don’t fuck this up.” And so, I’m not gonna. I’m not gonna tell you that he checks all my boxes, or that he actually digs my crazy-ass. Or that he has this hot smile, and treats me like a Princess. Nope. Twist my arm, it’s not happening. I am not going to share all the interesting little tidbits of info that I usually share, because in the past…not a good thing comes of it. I usually open my big mouth, and the next thing you know… he’s gone. And I look like an asshole. And you’re reading about how he “ghosted” me. Or I was “out of his age range”. Or how I ended up PMS-ing my way back to single-dome. And frankly, I’ve also wasted a perfectly good The Truth Hurvitz-name on him. Ya know, a name? Dr. McBrillant who wasn’t even close to brilliant, or Mr.Right who was clearly Mr.DEADfuckingWRONG. Do you even know how hard it is to name these men? It ain’t easy, ok? And when they’re gone, the name is gone forever. Lost in the Truth Hurvitz archives… never to be heard from again. Boo. Sucks, I tell ya. Just sucks. My brain isn’t as good as it used to be, dammit. In fact, I’m sure I’ve written this blog before. Omg, have I?
So, I am saving a name.
And I’m saving a soul.
His soul…from the blog devil.
He will be the very FIRST boy that is safe! Safe from the world knowing his shit. Safe from the backlash, and persecution. Safe from all of it, I mean if there is any shit. Like really. As if the guys ever get any bad press. Do you see them getting nasty-ass messages or emails? Or accosted on street corners? haha. Never happens. And I never hear a bad thing, either. Only great things. Positive things. Nice, kind…encouraging comments that make me want to do this blogging thing forever. But that is ME. I chose this life, good press or bad. And I don’t care about what people think, or putting myself out there. But the people I write about, they didn’t ask for any of this. I have always respected that, from day one. And I always will. Pinky swear, and a big SOOF SOOF. (swear on our friendship)
So although I usually talk about my men, there is a first time for everything. This will be the first, and the only time you hear about this one. And even if this one ends up being “the one“… you still won’t know. Get it? I’m trying this new approach. I actually care how he feels. And what he thinks. Hmmm. Kinda weird, being all sweet. And nice-ish. Keeping my cards close to my chest, and not sharing my every, single emotion. Let’s see how long this lasts, shall we?
Maybe I should wrap my hands in duct tape. ;)
Tags: jennifer hurvitz, life after divorce, relationships, the truth hurvitz