Defining the (Blogging) Relationship

Starting a blog is more difficult than I remember.

I don’t know who is reading, and no one knows what to expect from me. It’s almost as though we—that is, the reader (you) and I—are in a long, sometimes rocky dating relationship where we’re both trying to figure out exactly what makes the other tick.

Yes, I will use romance as an analogy for, oh, everything because I spend gross amounts of time thinking about it. That’s the joy of being married.

But now that I’m three posts in, I think I should give you a bit of an idea where ‘By Fire or Fire’ is going. To borrow from corporate-lingo, cast a vision for this blog. To go back to romance, let’s DTR (that’s ‘define the relationship,’ for those who haven’t caught up to 2007).

The Blind Date of Blogging: My First Post

The first post is always the hardest. It’s like a blind date—you don’t know me, I don’t know you and the stakes are really high (at least for me).

Having never been on a blind date—I always preferred to find my women myself—my impression is that they are fun and informative, but hardly ‘deep’ or substantial. Or at least the good ones are. The bad ones are simply misery.

It’s not a bad formula for a first blog post.

So, I’ll leave the substance for later, when we talk about who I am, what I’m doing here at ConversantLife, and what I hope this blog accomplishes.

For fun, though, I’ll tell you the single worst line I have ever told a girl. It’s bad. Really bad.

The Good of Letting Go

It has been about a year since my daughter, Lindsey, was married to Eric. (He is a great guy, but he hasn’t been in the family long enough to merit mention in this blog. So, forget I said anything about him.) I only have one wedding bill left to pay. It is a big one (the photographer’s bill), so I’ve been putting it off -- preferring instead to buy food and keep gas in the car.

The whole “giving your daughter away” thing wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I was expecting an emotional watershed, but it wasn’t. In fact, I’m really fine with it. No sadness. No depression. Not even at the wedding during the ceremony when I recited my only line: “Her mother and I do.” Why is that? It certainly isn’t a lack of love for Lindz; I’m pretty excessive in that regard.

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