Every now and then, I get messages from guys on here, who have never posted and never spoken to me directly but feel they know me from reading my posts.
It's very flattering but a little eerie as I am actually quite shy. To have no interaction with someone, but they feel they know you from your posts and reputation on here, makes me wanna hide behind the sofa.
What do you guys think?
Does your reputation precede you sometimes, for better or worse?
Pup, x
Mine for worse. People often glance over my light-hearted threads and dig through the archives to chastise me for my earliest ones, threads that have long been inactive are used against me and stated that it's "all I talk about", even though the percentage of such threads is lower than Bush's approval ratings (OHHH, DAYUM, no he di'int!)
It doesn't bother me, other people compliment me for my threads and I often get PMs appreciating my candor and humor. Some people will sit idle as you do 100 good deeds then jump up with life and vigor when you slip up. It's said that "obssessing over the wrongful deeds of others is, itself, the worst wrongful deed." People will talk about a post you did four months prior as if you'd just written it yesterday, and despite posts that contradict their assessment of you, they use one to summate your character.
Many people, who have never responded to me, lambast me with a strongly worded response or PM insisting that, after reading one post, they know my character and personality better than my own mother and best friends.
Don't hide behind the sofa, when I didn't wanna go to the mall with my mom (what boy does, the chair in the women's department is NO comfort when you're sitting there for 2 hours) I hid under the couch, fell asleep, and they had to call the cops cuz I thought I'd ran away. I'm sure your owners would miss you very much if you disappeared behind the sofa. If it's that bad, try the dryer, no one will ever find you there!
The dryer next to the washing machine?
Best...hide-and-go-seek....hiding....spot....ever..... When you're 11 and a walking toothpick. Miss those days of pants that fit and an ass that didn't look like I'm smuggling two hams.