Friday, 3 October 2008

IRL

Secret Diary yesterday had a very odd scene which made it probably the best part of the series so far. Something like:

Blake: "You feel like a real girl now?"
Belle: "I am a real girl. My name's Hannah."
Blake: "Hello, Hannah..."

I almost wept.

Following on from that and a conversation I had over the phone with The Drinker last night, I spent most of today ruminating on the whole issue of secret identities. I wrote a post very recently about how people have different sides, but is it fair to lump all the love onto one side? ILB and the 'public' lover all-in-one?
I'd say it is, really. Because however closely-guarded my 'secret' identity might be, I'm writing this blog from my heart - and that's one heart contained in one body, whatever name you apply to it.

And yet some people know I am both ILB and The Real Me. My girlfriend knows, evidently. My best friend, 47, knows about it (although I didn't tell him; he found out, but I knew he would anyway, so it's not that much of a shock). And Syren, a good friend's lover and therefore a friend, knows about it.
And that's odd, but for some reason - it's probably a very good reason although I couldn't exactly explain what it is - I trust Syren to know all my most intimate sexual secrets. I've only ever met her once, and that makes it even weirder. Never mind.

I'm more blasé about my identity as ILB when I'm in a setting nobody knows me in. The CCK party was a good opportunty to unashamedly say, "they call me Innocent Loverboy." At least, until K and H turned up, and I had to keep schtum. Kind of. Similarly, I had no second thoughts about referring to myself as ILB on Secret Piece III. When it's love or sex that's the topic, ILB springs into action. He just happens to be the same person as me. Just with a different name. And I like that.

On my way back from training today, I decided to pop back to CCK to see if it was still open; it was, despite their claims that they'd last until the end of September. Honestly, the tenacity of those people is second only to the quality of their cake. In fact, coffee, cake, soft sofas and David Lodge make for a very good combination after what was, despite being onehourand45minutes, quite a tiring training session earlier on.
Alana mentioned artists and, not thinking properly (as is my wont), I replied that I was an artist, not realising that she meant visual art; we did, however, chat for a while about different types of art, and whether anything I did was relevant to CCK. Initially, I didn't think it was, as the occasional drawing of Green Lantern doesn't have much to do with... oh, hang on... Rule 34.
"I do write a sex blog," I said. "That's quite relevant."
Everyone in the CCK lounge was looking at me, and I didn't care.
"As long as you don't take a snap of me, write 'THIS IS INNOCENT LOVERBOY' on it and put it in the window..." I added. But there we are: I'd said who I was with people I don't know in the vicinity. A secret identity, yes, but for the faceless masses (and Alana) it's okay. I even told her my real name later on (she thought, for some reason, it was John. It isn't.), and I felt comfortable doing that.

I'm not going to out myself, or anything. For such a small-time sex blogger it wouldn't achieve anything. Plus, I hardly want to. But it's interesting, isn't it, that in real life, I'm okay with saying to some people that I am ILB? Odd, but quite cool, in a vanity-related sort of way.

I do wonder what my friends think I'm doing, though, now I've stopped talking about love and sex in my public blog for some time...

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