Droppin' Like Flies

I was a wicked unpopular kid. I was a tall, skinny red head with freckles, big ears and buck teeth. I was loud, obnoxious, insecure and would do just about anything for attention.

Decades later, I've evolved into a tall, matronly dye job with freckles & wrinkles. Four years in braces have tamed the overbite. While I have mellowed a little, I'm still basically a big mouth. I've brought my attention seeking down a couple of notches. I dance, but not on tables. I have sex, but not with your boyfriend. My attempts at securing your attention are more subtle.

As a kid, I collected friends, real or imagined. In adulthood, I have a new fascination. Followers. I covet each and every one of you. You're what I think about when I should be sleeping/eating/working/painting/cleaning or bookkeeping. You're my validation. You give my life meaning. I need you.

Sometime this week, I lost one of you. Gone. Poof. Oh God. I'm boring! My writing style sucks. Wait! Was it the F word? The fact that I mentioned my boyfriend's dick? My jugs? Not enough contests? My header? What? WHAT?

Whew. OK. I'm alright now. Look. All I'm asking is that if you're going to leave, if you're not happy, if there's someone else, tell me. Don't let me be the last to know.

Comments

Anonymous said…
LOL, funny! Maybe they died of laughter.
Lorrie Veasey said…
Ah, the followers come-the followers go. They are fickle, fickle folk. I prefer to have readers that are leaders.
kristin said…
The NERVE!

Blogger should require something like an exit interview before they allow you to click the unfollow button.
33 questions said…
No unfollow button for you!