I’ve decided to shut down the blogs.
For several reasons.
The first is that more and more often the protagonists of the stories end up being bothered by some detail of my tales. Almost never for something I’ve done, but always for some free interpretation, for some embellishment used to decorate the story.
We all, every day, have hundreds of light thoughts. Imagine ending up in court and having to defend yourself for each one of them.
Most thoughts are shadows and reflections of the emotions of the moment. They are blurred light plays that caress (or sometimes punch) our minds. Putting them on paper, even if digital, makes them solid, heavy, three-dimensional. And so what started as a random fluctuation of some neurotransmitter immediately becomes a fact, something to weigh, to reflect upon.
It can happen, therefore, that those who read themselves in the words of others may give weight and meanings quite different from the original ones.
And it has happened often.
It happened to the French Goddess, rereading her story.
It happened two days ago, with Honey Eyes, who had a reaction as unique as it was rare.
It happened yesterday with SweetBoobs, throwing her into despair and — even worse — providing her friends with easy arguments against us (anyway, Bianca, I still suggest choosing Riccardo, it’s not my fault!). Hurting SweetBoobs, while she looks at you with those Puss in Boots eyes, is a crime against humanity.
To the extreme case of being offended by the stories… of others! As happened with Julia, a girl I was starting to date, who liked me, who… fled as soon as I gave her the blog address. And to think she had met me in person and we had created a nice soul intimacy. She had seen inside me, but… the blog character overwrote everything.
And this last event brings me to the second reason: inevitably, writing about my adventures turns me into a character. The blog is a spotlight on a single and limited aspect of my life. It’s very true, it’s a deep and sincere slice, but only of a piece of my person. Of a phase. Lived with a certain tone.
And I fear that, in the long run, even lifelong friends end up seeing only the mask and not me.
Lately, then, my interest in adventures, women, experiments has gradually decreased. I’m seeing two girls I really like, I don’t want to look for others, I want to focus on something else. I’m re-passionate about business, I’ve just bought a company to save and relaunch and I want it to become my main activity. I want to be the doctor of companies and go back to being a serious serial entrepreneur. With the time I spend writing a story, I could redesign the foundations of a business… too expensive to talk about chicks! 🙂
Moreover, the “mission” component has also diminished. I started writing against the traditional relationship model, against bigotry, against the easy and well-trodden paths. I wanted to show different ways of living, making unconventional choices, revealing that you can be happy and fulfilled by writing your life according to your own rules.
And, yes, in fact, I am happy and fulfilled living this life. But, in this journey of personal growth, I’ve realized that I could also be happy in one of those traditional relationships I’ve criticized so much.
Always be wary of evangelists who travel the world preaching the word of God: if someone is doing well, they stay home watching X Factor, not wandering around Palestine in a tunic.
All these are good reasons. But they are accessories.
The REAL reason is that I started writing because I wanted to feel cool. I wanted to tell this wonderful life of mine among beautiful and very young women. I wanted to be envied in a friendly way by my married friends. I wanted to show how it was possible to date “soccer players’ women,” even if you have a belly and haven’t played football since middle school.
In short, I was seeking validation in women, stories, tales.
It’s known, all great enterprises are born for validation or compensation. Elon Musk wouldn’t work 20 hours a day for twenty years if he were okay with himself. Homer wouldn’t have composed immortal verses if not to sleep with the Helen of his village. And Berlusconi, well… is there a need to add details when talking about Berlusconi?
People who are okay and satisfied generally have really boring lives.
Unfortunately, despite my proud attempts at resistance, this journey of personal growth has somewhat fixed me. Not completely, fortunately, but at least I’ve escaped the “golden cage of originality at all costs,” of validation. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll even be monogamous. What a thing.
So, friends, it’s been great and I thank you.
HAVE A GOOD LIFE!
PAOLO (yep, that’s my name).
PS: what are those screams?
Ah, it’s the Countess cursing me from afar!
Surely it’s really cruel to close the blog without having written a story about the Countess, so much promised to her!
What do you say?
