It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution.
In my real life (as opposed to this naughty blogger personae) I am a regular reader of a "Mommy Blogger" who has started a recurring theme on Fridays for her readers called Friday Secrets. This is nothing new or unique; there are all sorts of sites that allow people to anonymously post secrets and confess things about themselves to the Internet world. What is very entertaining about this particular version is, while the secrets are posted anonymously, they are submitted ostensibly by the readers who often participate in the comments section during the rest of the week. It has become a lot of fun and in fact, some people have even been posting pictures of themselves - PG rated and nothing more.
The gal who runs Friday Secrets asks the confessors to send her their secrets from a fake e-mail account - something that won't be associated with them as a real person. Further, she declares that she will not attempt to learn the identity of the submitter of the secret. She basically receives an e-mail, cuts & pastes the secret from the body of the e-mail into a Word document, then promptly deletes the e-mail.
When I sent in my first confession, it was a pretty cheesy thing, more for the comedic value then anything else. I sent it from the same e-mail address I use for this blog. Secretly (perhaps I should confess), I hoped that the mommy blogger would have done a little research to find my blog and see that I am a reader of her blog - just I use a different name over there when I leave comments.
In later weeks, I submitted a few more personal confessions, secrets that regular readers here would already know - that I am married but love to suck dick or that I get off on other guys fucking my wife. In the back of my mind I hoped to have an e-mail back saying something - anything. As it turned out, I simply was not getting the adrenaline flow, the turn on one receives when they make a confession.
I don't have any serial killings to confess to; I didn't rob a bank and get away with it years ago. My confessions, the fact that I am bi, the fact that my wife and I have engaged in sexual activities that don't comply with the church are nothing that would cause a story on 60 Minutes. But they are my Secrets, only, like nude photos of your totally hot girlfriend, they are useless without sharing.
Fast forward. I saw a friend/neighbor leave a comment on her Facebook page about how enjoyable it was that she had left a naughty secret on a blog and how exciting it was. I sent her a private message suggesting that she ought to check out this particular mommy blogger. Turns out, it was the same blog I have been posting my secrets to!
I did a quick look at the secrets from last Friday and picked one out that looked interesting. In fact, when I suggested that particular one which involved a decades ago, one time girl on girl experience, she admitted it was hers. Okay, nothing says instant erection like a lady you know admitting to girl on girl action - even if it was a long time ago.
At the time of our brief chat via Facebook, she hinted that she had read a few secrets that could have been posted by me - she says so based upon my writing style. Of course, it occurs to me that if she ever finds this post, I have in effect revealed most of my secrets to her. There is admittedly some thrill in that. I found myself so intoxicated with the thought of revealing details about my private life to this person who was not a complete stranger. As it would turn out, the conversation was cut short and a later attempt by me to reengage the discussion was ignored. In short, I think it may have been a little more creepy for her than it was for me. This is a lady who has become fairly good Facebook friends with my wife and I suspect she would prefer not to go down the path of having flirty private conversations with me.
But I feel the urge to be honest. Of course, you readers, those eight or so of you who come back every so often to see what I have written about or possibly which older posts I have removed, have been great listeners to my secret confessions. But I suddenly feel the urge to confess to real people I know.
Am I just a glutton for punishment?