Well, Twittah, it’s been real…

It’s amazing how three, twitter-free days can give you a little perspective on life. Of course, the catalyst for those three twitter free days was probably the most eye opening of all. Am I being cryptic? Yup. There’s a lot of that coming…

I got an email from a twitter friend. This is someone I know in person and he or she knows who they are. They wanted to pass along some information that when I first heard it, I didn’t believe. After all, while my twitter friend and I chat a lot and have met in person, the other person involved in this issue is someone with whom I’m actually friends; like we spend time together and whatnot. So when my twitter friend shared with me what this other friend had said about me, I damn near called him or her a liar. Damn near. Instead, I asked for proof. Proof I got-lots of it. Clear as day, in black and white. My already somewhat beatdown ego was bruised. The hardest lesson, however, is this: sticks and stones may break your bones but words hurt like a mother fucking bitch. Especially when they’re said behind your back to another friend with whom the first friend isn’t particularly close.

I get that people send DMs to be secretive. But really, nothing on the internet is sacred. Nothing on the internet is beyond dissemination. So with that in mind, when I send DMs, they tend to be very truthful. I never say anything I don’t sincerely mean because once you say it and it’s out on the interweb, there’s no taking it back. Not really.

I’m also tired of feeling used for things that aren’t really that special to begin with. They’re special to me because I experienced them personally. But trying to earn my trust isn’t going to get you face time with Jordan at Target. That already happened. It’s not likely to happen again, at least not to me and if someone else makes it happen for you, it’s not that special. I drove 9 hours overnight each direction, endured car sickness, exhaustion, lots of anxiety and a diet of Twix bars, coke and slim jims for that face time. I earned it.

The personal issues aside, I’m just tired of the toxic vat of drama twitter has become. I’m tired of the way it makes me feel about me. Contrary to what this account apparently leads some people to believe, I’m not really a fan of drama. Don’t get me wrong, I *love* a good bitch fest. I’m all about the snark. Thus, the reason I don’t care when people DM fan-lebrities and tell them to check out my tweets for things I say about them. Again, if I didn’t mean it, I wouldn’t say it to begin with. I seriously have no filter. Just ask Donnie. But in my personal life in the real world, I eliminate toxicity and toxic people from my life. I don’t do drama. Unfortunately somehow through this cultural phenom we call Twittah, I’ve managed to break away from that tradition. I got sucked into drama, lots of it. And I found myself losing respect for me.

There’s also the fact that I’ve been getting increasingly disillusioned by the guys and I’d rather that not continue. I know they’re not perfect. Some of them I love purely for their faults (ahem Watson). But frankly if I see one more bright, talented woman begging Wahlberg for a hump or if I find myself tweeting against my better judgment asking McIntyre to follow me, I swear I’m gonna go bat shit crazy and wind up busting skulls on the cruise. Maybe when I get a little taste of Houston nostalgia (you know, if I get my DVD before next Christmas?) or when we get closer to the cruise I’ll feel differently. I miss being excited about waking up in the morning to what Jonathan snarked in the middle of the night or looking forward to the possibility of entering a FAIR Wahlberg contest. I miss the way Danny’s love tips used to make me smile and how Joe could bring up things from 20 years ago that we all remember. I think more than anything else I miss when Jordan used to play games with us, when it was a fair and even playing field. Just the guys and their fans. Us and them. Brothers and sisters. Not the guys, their fans, and the select group of fans who for whatever reason get special treatment. For now I’m really sick of running to stand still. (That was for you, Suzanne).

I’m not leaving twitter. The wrong that was done to me was not along the lines of AP or Rob. It was far less dramatic. Which I guess in its own way makes it that much more pathetic. I’m also not going to say who this is about, so please don’t DM me and ask. I can assure you I won’t respond. But if reading this blog makes your conscience twitch, that’s between you and, well, your conscience. Herein I’ve said my piece. And now, after a three day break, I’m over it. But lessons were learned along the way.

On the flipside (on the serious tip?) I do appreciate those who actually bothered to wonder where I’ve been this weekend. It’s nice to be missed and cared about. That’s been really eye opening, too.

Now, in the immortal words of @joeymcintyre, back to the Riddler Pants.