Ever since I started writing the “Conversations with Her”, there has been a lot of interest in my blog. For the first few weeks everyone who followed my blog and met me(or commented on my blog) asked about who she was. To be absolutely honest, I am yet to reveal to anybody the identity of the muse of those posts.

I know this is the first time I have written about “Her” outside the posts… But certain situations have led me to a point where I have no choice but to address this…

The reason I started writing about the “conversations” was not to show off my conversational skills, nor was it to an attempt to get attention. It definitely wasn’t to announce any relationship I was being a part of. The reason is probably now beyond explanation… actually I believe now that the reason is truly only important to me. I have always maintained that the identity was immaterial and that is exactly what I told almost everyone who asked.

Things went out of hand soon after… There was speculation among my friends about if this person even existed. There were vague and weird questions asked, clearly with the intent of acquiring details about the identity of the person. There were situations where I even felt a little offended by the intrusion of privacy, but I always felt that since it effected only me directly it was fine. Plus most of the people who asked these questions were very close friends who were frustrated by the lack of information about (what they perceived as) a major part of my life.

There were even bets between my friends as to who would and could get the information out of me faster. Honestly, i was a bit flattered by the amount of interest that I was getting, I haven’t always been the center of attention for much and this sudden celebrity status (if you can call that) was very flattering. I guess this is where things took a turn for the worse.

I kept telling myself that the people who kept asking the questions were my close friends and they are just trying to pull my leg. I even prided myself for being able to take a lot without cracking a nerve… I treated it is an excellent test of my patience. But then the inevitable happened, someone else go hurt along the way. My inability to stop that from happening and actually not even realize that it was happening, is what hurts the most.

Looking back, I realize it was almost entirely my fault. I should have drawn the line a long time back…

What I realize is that most of my friends truly care for me, to a point that they don’t realize that trying to help me (mostly with relationships) is probably much worse than not doing anything at all.

Deep down, I don’t regret writing about the conversations… The only regret is that it led to someone I really care about getting hurt.

I don’t know if I will ever again write another ‘conversation with her’ again. I am not making this decision because of the questions and situations I had to face but rather because I currently don’t feel like writing, knowing what that led to.

Ps: Please excuse me if I don’t reply to your comments on this post.