Kink in exile

Notes from a kinky nomad

Anonymity

Many of my readers know who I am. They knew me before I started this blog, or they met me at some sex blogger meet-up somewhere. But I wonder what this says to readers who don’t know me. I’ve been trying to get back into blog reading recently, and it’s always an interesting process discovering a new blog, becoming intimate with a stranger. Were we in the same place last night, and you didn’t know it until I blogged about that hot scene I watched? Are we next door neighbors? I know I read blogs kept by others in my fair city, and it’s not that big a city. I’ve been reading Sex and the Ivy and it seems so familiar — if I close my eyes I can see fall hitting Harvard yard, flame red leaves on a dying quad and paper Tealuxe cup burning my hands as I cut past red brick buildings and bronze statues (but not the original yellow house) to the other side of the square and that strange cluster of museums. And yet, I’m almost certain I’ve never met Lena, never even heard of the Harvard sex scandal (at least not one she describes) until this morning.

I wonder too about the impact of my blog on the people in my life. I know the consequences of having this blog come back to me, but I also publish porn under my real name — I don’t have my heart set on running for school superintendent any time soon. What happens when my boyfriend’s boss reads my blog though? I guess this is why I remind him that I blog about my sex over and over again (and why I don’t date politicians and parents 🙂

When I started this blog I had to contend not only with personal privacy, but also a heavily monitored and censored internet connection. Since getting back to the states I’ve slaked on the privacy front — I’ve posted pictures, logged on without a proxy, and given readers much stronger geographical ties than “south east asia near an elephant hospital.” Still I believe now as I believed then privacy is a polite falsehood. I don’t break the law in meaningful ways and the FBI doesn’t dust off my file. I don’t come to work in handcuffs and my boss doesn’t ask about my Friday night. The best you can do is not do the things you wouldn’t survive the world knowing.

Written by kinkinexile

September 23, 2009 at 10:53 pm

2 Responses

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  1. Is your name actually written anywhere on this site?

    Ms. Ava Blue

    September 24, 2009 at 6:05 pm

  2. Nope. My boss would understand, but do I really need crazy stalkers at my doorstep?

    admin

    September 24, 2009 at 6:27 pm


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