I’m not sure who said the famous line,
“You only get one chance to make a great first impression”…
But that individual is solely responsible for millions of empty blogs and personal websites.
People want to share themselves with the world, but after all the initial set-up is completed, they are left staring at a blank, white message block and a paralyzing fear of portraying themselves in the wrong light with their opening sentence.
I, however, have finally conquered that fear… roughly three days after creating this account, and as you can see, am already in the midst of my THIRD sentence.
Making it to the final sentence, though, will require a bit more effort and exploration into what makes a good introduction.
What should you know about me, then?
Well, I could begin by sharing with you a few secrets from my childhood…
such as, my first crush (in kindergarten) was for a rat.
Many people have had crushes on rats, but mine was of the rodent variety… he was tall and suave, with melting brown eyes and a shy, sexy smile.
His name was Justin; brave and adventurous, he fought well with a sword defending his lady’s honor, and held the title of Guard Captain.
Obviously, he was also a fictional character from The Secret of NIMH, a feature-length animation of Robert C. O’Brien’s novel.
I carried a torch for Justin for a long time, but finally had to acknowledge that my love was unrequited and in vain.
For his heart was smitten by Jonathon Brisby’s lovely mouse widow; biologically, or perhaps illustratedly, I had to concede they were much better suited for one another.
Fortunately my broken heart was mended by my next suitor, a stuffed alley cat I named Stinkpin.
Yes, I did write “stuffed”, as in sewn with batting, not overfed on garbage or taxidermied. He actually returned my affections, and offered to marry me.
A patient grandmother advised that I get my father’s permission before the wedding, but alas, I knew he wouldn’t approve.
So Stinkpin and I eloped.
Hmmm, it’s a wonder the courthouse didn’t discover that hasty decision when I applied for another marriage years later.
It could possibly be that all of my marriages henceforth have been invalid… although he did abandon me some time later for parts unknown, it’s conceivable I would be granted an annulment.
As any psychiatrist could determine from reading these last paragraphs, my difficulties acquiring and maintaining a normal romantic relationship have been troubled since my earliest years.
Why is it, throughout my life, I’ve always seemed drawn to the rats and the strays?
My current marriage in progress is surprisingly going well… at the two year mark, which formerly has been the death knoll of my waning commitment, I feel we are stronger than ever.
I cannot allow myself much optimism, however, because I cursed my future self in the 3rd grade….
Giving a dramatic monologue recitation for a panel of judges, one of them wrote on his sheet that I could become “the next Elizabeth Taylor”.
My parents seem to take great delight at the compliment, but as an eight-year-old child with little knowledge of Ms. Taylor’s great cinematic achievements, I could only reply matter-of-factly:
“He just meant that I’m going to have 8 husbands when I grow up.”
See, dear readers! I doomed myself to a life of ill-commitment and love affairs.
As much as I would love to protest that I was mistaken, and that my current prince will be the last… it would be a foolish fantasy.
The silver lining to all this madness, is that he is turning 50 this year, so perhaps we can have a wonderful marriage while he lives… and once he passes, when I’m sixty or so, I’ll squeeze in the remaining 5 husbands in rapid succession.
If I continue this tradition of dating men 20 years my senior, it shouldn’t be too difficult to marry and bury five men in their late 80’s.
Although these musings wouldn’t likely be considered the most appropriate introduction into a person’s character, it has served it’s intended purpose… getting past the blank page.
From this point on, impressions having been made, I can easily fill the remaining pages with my odd thoughts and ramblings.
So how would I conclude this first post?
I generally leave my shoes off; they’re under the table now, so feel free to put them on and take a walk into my world.