She Would Have Concluded I Have A Recessive ‘Horny Gene’.

So I had a conversation with my mum last week. ‘Cept it was less of a two way exchange of words, and more of ‘I’ll sit here while mother dearest hurls statements at me of why I am inadequate’. She.. *inhales sharply*..she saw my blog. I know. Big mistake. What came over me? Did I expect my mum to be over-joyed at the fact that whenever I find the time, I write roughly 200 words of my undying love for my future husband, whoever that is. Actually yes. Yes I did think that she would at least be proud. Proud of my commitment to some form of writing, be it creative or not.

The heat under the collar of my shirt was rising uncontrollably, I kid you not, as I scrolled down the page of my posts. Nervously awaiting her reaction. And then.. she said something.

What is the point of this? You keep a diary online? Only weak people feel the need to tell the entire world what they’re doing! *tuts*

‘Well’ I thought, ‘that certainly didn’t go as expected’. I sank into my chair, disappointment loitering the air around me. I scrolled down the page more with gaining speed but however low the page went, I failed to escape them. Another post appeared. Then another. With big, bold titles of ‘I Am In Love’, ‘The Love-Sick Children’, ‘All You Need Is Love’, ‘Time To Marry’ and ‘I Am In Love With Someone. But I Don’t Know Who I Am In Love With’.It’s safe to say I was on the verge of head-desking as my conscience strangled me while muttering: ‘You blooming idiot! Who told you to fall in love and write about it?!’.

Basically, coming out of the blogging closet to my mum perhaps should have been better planned. Praise the Lord she didn’t see my review of Fifty Shades Of Grey. Let’s face it, she would have concluded I have a recessive ‘horny’ gene.

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