I dedicate this blog entry to Natasha and Richard Dunn, for their tolerance of my silliness. Thank you.
The other day I wrote this blog entry called The Shortest Romance in the History of the World, a tongue-in-cheek description of how I saw Richard Dunn, this total stranger, on a viral video and fell madly in love, only to discover he was married. Drat.
I didn’t really think much of it. It was just one of my daily musings, and a great way to poke fun at myself and entertain the 45 viewers I usually get on an average day. The truth is, my focus is usually about 5 days ahead on this blog, so even though you hadn’t gotten a chance to see it yet, I’d long since glued my broken heart back together and moved on.
So imagine my shock when I woke up the next morning, checked my statistics page, and discovered I’d had 390 views, and it wasn’t yet 9 a.m. Uh… what was going on? It said that these viewers were coming straight to me from Facebook, but I had no idea who posted a link to my blog or why. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.
As I sat there scratching my head, I saw the statistics jump to 420. Seriously? I mean, it was a funny entry, but not that spectacular, surely. But still, what a rush.
Then I noticed that Mr. Dunn’s wife actually posted a really nice comment. I was very gratified by that, but I also wanted to crawl under the nearest rock. To be clear, I don’t know Richard Dunn. I’ve never met the man, and the love I felt lasted all of 5 minutes and 20 seconds, the length of the video. It sounds as if their marriage is happy and healthy, and I’m quite happy for them.
An hour later, the count was at 480, and California was only just waking up. Suddenly I sort of felt like I was being watched. Oh, God, do people think I’m a crazy stalker? Was my blog entry posted on some “Watch out for Bat Shit Crazies” Facebook page? That certainly wasn’t my intent. It’s always a strange feeling when I’m reminded that I’m not the one in the driver’s seat of this blog-mobile.
Just so you know, I can distinguish reality from fantasy. Really, I can. There are a million things I don’t know about Mr. Dunn, and any number of them could be even bigger deal breakers than that pesky marriage thing. (Joking, Natasha! Joking!) He could be a chain smoker. He could be shorter than I am. (Yeah, I’m that shallow.) He could suffer from chronic halitosis or be a hoarder. He could be a fundamentalist Christian, a climate change denier, a racist, or worse yet, a Republican. Gasp! He might leave socks scattered about and keep losing the top off the toothpaste. He might like to call waitresses honey or be into wearing women’s clothing, for all I know. I’m not saying that any of this is the case. I’m merely trying to illustrate that the Richard Dunn in my head is probably nothing like the real person.
But lest the Dunns fear that I’m some utter nutcase, I refer them to two other blog entries of mine. The first, For the Love of Puberty, is all about the crush I had on Shaun Cassidy when I was 13. The second, Kiss Me, Russell Brand, is about my attraction to that celebrity.
Okay, in retrospect, reading those two blog entries will probably make me seem even crazier. But I respectfully submit Shaun Cassidy and Russell Brand as my character references. If you ask them, both will be able to confirm that I have never, not once, left boiling bunnies on their kitchen stoves a la the movie Fatal Attraction. I actually like bunnies, truth be told.
Meanwhile, the views of my Richard Dunn blog entry peaked at 735 that day, which made it the most viewed day in the history of this blog. I cannot imagine what it would take to top that. Trust me when I say that no one would want to see naked pictures of me.
The furor has since died down. Sigh. Fame is so fleeting. But never fear. That swelling you may have observed in my head is bound to recede any day now.
But Richard, if you have any single brothers, I wouldn’t be opposed to… Oh, shut up, Barb. Quit while you’re ahead.
[Image credit: babescott.com]