Writing online requires a thick skin. You put it out there, and you hope people respond well. If they do, you feel like the popular girl in school. If they don't, well.... you get hideous, fall-on-the-bed-in-a-foetal-position-quivering flashbacks to when you weren't.
When I began posting on Twitter I followed some interesting people, some of whom kindly followed me back. These people included the comedian Dave Hughes, who thrilled me to bits when he followed me too. After all, if Dave Hughes found me Follow-Worthy, then I must be worth something, right?
Turns out, Dave Hughes follows EVERYONE who follows him; he's just a totally inclusive kind of guy. Which is lovely, really. But it kind of devalued his particular following of me, if you know what I mean.
Still, it's better to have found love, and realised it's a little diluted, than never to have found love at all. There are plenty of people who have failed to follow me, despite my onslaught of desperately witty and pithy posts. I'm like the girl knocking pitifully on the door of the party, except that no-one can hear, because the music is turned up so loud inside.
It's bad enough when people I don't know don't follow me. When people I do know don't follow me, it's like rubbing salt into the wound. My own BROTHER-IN-LAW, for example, refuses to follow me, despite me following his posts since he's been online. I mean, what's with that? Even if he finds me painfully boring, surely familial loyalty would give me even a paltry Pity Follow? But no.
Still , at least all my brother-in-law has done to me is Not Follow. Yesterday, to continue the party metaphor, I actually got TURNED AWAY FROM THE DOOR. Yes, I attempted to follow an interesting looking person on Twitter and found they had blocked me. So offensive and noxious was I, that this person had decided to ban me from reading their posts. I guess they were concerned I'd.... Um... Well, actually I really don't know what I might have done had I been let loose to read their posts. But clearly something very, very awful.
So not only did I then feel like the unpopular girl in school, I felt like the paranoid unpopular girl in school, who knows someone doesn't like her, but has no idea why. Am I not pretty enough? (Possible, but my Twitter photo is a really good picture, taken from a careful angle.) Is my heart too broken? (Well, now it certainly is.) Do I cry too much? Am I too outspoken? (Sorry, couldn't think of anymore questions so I had to borrow from Kasey Chambers.)
Still, whatever the questions, I know the answer. I'm starting my own party. The food may be bad, and the music lame, but you're all invited, and I'm not blocking anyone.
Except, maybe, my brother-in-law...