I am google-able. Search my name and there is stuff to be found. Old demos, the link to this blog, a slew of reporter stories, discussions about my comings and goings work wise, photos…that terrible Nyberg interview where I look like death.
Aidan and Zach and I have a very honest relationship. I think it’s healthiest to keep discussions open and let them know nothing is off the table. If they have questions, I will try to have answers. They think it’s amusing when I get recognized, which is happening now more than ever, and while they often give me the, “mooooooommmmmm” when I say something they perceive as embarrassing, at the end of the day they know we have a unique mother/son bond and they appreciate that.
Recently we were talking about me doing comedy and they wanted to know if I wanted to stop doing news and just be funny. It’s a delicate balance, my day job and a hobby that I wish I had more time to pursue. I tried to explain that I can’t be as honest in my comedy as I’d often like to be because I have to be careful not to upset the reputation I have as a journalist. They then told me they’d watched my comedy routine.
Wait, what???? We talk about penises and vaginas all day around here. Dating, love, the pursuit of happiness. But for them to watch my comedy felt a little taboo. (Which is incredibly strange to say because last night Aidan was tinder-ing for me…I don’t tinder anymore but they were curious and we had some great laughs at the expense of men posing in front of mirrors, standing next to urinals, with tigers, with dogs, with women, and without their shirts on Suddenly they understood my frustrations with the dating scene ala 2015.)
“When did you watch my routine?” I asked.
“We googled you. We watched the one where you were wearing the black shirt,” Aidan said.
“How much did you watch?????” I asked, slightly concerned but not really…..I keep it pretty clean.
“We stopped like the 4th time you said the f word,” he said. “You say it a lot.”
Phew! They stopped before I said I put out…my poor father is still trying to recover from that one.
Google is a powerful thing. In the on-line dating world it offers insight, good and bad, into the people we meet or are planning on meeting. When I first met what’s his face almost 3 years ago, I googled him and found some incriminating info. It stopped me from a second date until he pursued to the point I convinced myself it was ok and aren’t we all lucky we don’t have those on our records?!?! Lesson learned?! Probably not.
Lately it seems as if the people I connect with in the dating world are just as google-able as I am, albeit in different ways. I google to find out if there is a mug shot or arrest or if they’ve made the Drudge report. What I find is employment records, names of ex-wives, and articles about business happenings and their comings and goings. I suppose I could feel bad about sneaking a peak into their lives but I’ve found they do the same, and often come to the date knowing a hell of a lot more about me than I do them. We tell each other we’re googling. It’s strange.
We are all google-able…some of us just more so than others. Our addresses, phone numbers, marriage records, divorce records, Facebook, linkedin…all out there for everyone and anyone to find. I don’t have anything to hide, really. I’m just not quite at the point where I lay it all out there for EVERYONE to know. I’m trying to get better at it as I do think my sarcasm and stories could enlighten others and possibly save a heart or two. (I’ve been told they could and when I post an edited version those who heard the entire truth tell me to stop holding back.) When I feel a connection to someone I’ll send the link to my comedy routine and ask them not so nicely to please not watch Nyberg until the third date and second bottle of wine.
Recently I started seeing someone who is perhaps MORE google-able than I am, in the sense that what I found lead me to question why he was investing his time in getting to know little ol’ me. (Self doubt is a terrible thing…..but inevitable after a couple of failed marriages.) His response, even after googling, was to say I seem real. I assume he’s had his fair share of the fakes and phonies. I am what I am and I won’t make apologies for that. He’s made me want to be more real and share some of the moments I often hold back.
So, here goes one of my favorites:
Aidan: Mom, there’s a condom wrapper in the trash.
Me: (oh, shit.) Yeah. So?
Aidan: Why is there a condom wrapper in the garbage?
Me: Cause safe sex is better than no sex…after you’re 18.
Aidan: (laughs) Is he a Bruins fan?
Me: He is now.
Google has been kind to me so far, mostly. Dig deep and there is one hurtful comment I could live without but know it’s BS. Someday, given the profession I’ve chosen and the path I’m on, maybe it won’t be so kind. I don’t care what anyone else sees or thinks…but for my kids, I hope I’ve set the right foundations so that they’ll know what’s true and what’s not, what matters and what doesn’t, and that mom was a well balanced mixture of all the things that make up life as only we know it.