Steph Not Stephanie

I don’t know if you know this about me, but I am a crazyperson. Perhaps you’re new here? Take some time to look around, get acquainted, and I’m sure you’ll come to the conclusion that this chick is batshit insane. It’s okay, I wear it like a badge of honour. I tend to use the word ‘crazy’ to cover a plethora of nutbar behaviour: neuroses, irrational behaviour, general freak-outs, and what I call ‘the ledge.’

The trouble with going beyond a first date with someone is it opens you up to expose all of your crazy, and you’re basically standing there psychologically naked (which is way more intimate than naked-naked), asking someone to be okay with your crazy.

There is a new boy, and we have gone past the first date, and my crazy is super out there. It is refreshing not to have to put on an act, presenting an idea of who I think I should be (pulled together, ‘normal,’ not insane), but at the same time it is really disarming to just let it all hang out. I’m breaking all the rules, both societal and the ones I impose on myself. Don’t tell them about the blog? Too late. Keep them at a distance (physically and emotionally) by ixnaying sleepovers? Whoops. Remain aloof and mysterious by not disclosing too much information and not responding to texts right away? Steph fail.

Here’s the thing: even though this is terrifying, it’s also so much easier to just be me. No games, no pretending, no acting the way I’m ‘expected’ to act, just me. I don’t think I could go back to that pretense if I tried. And honestly, why would I want to?