You see, you wouldn’t really know it right away, but I’m rather a private person. After the anecdotal stories are shared, and the travel tales are told, you would realize that the truly personal stories of my life still remain subtly missing. It’s not that I’m a secret squirrel, and lord knows there are enough of those in this town of DC, or that I’m playing coy, rather it just doesn’t slip easily off the tongue for me.
You would be surprised how much people want to share intimate details of their lives. And how can you blame them? The truth is we all want to be known, or rather we want someone to care enough to want to discover us, to learn of the little life events that only in their particular sequence, only because they happen to us, could they have formed our unique personality. It’s this feeling of being unearthed that has always appealed to me in the dating world. Is it the “butterflies” of meeting that special someone, or is it that that special someone cares enough to meet the “you” that only can happen through a lover’s interrogation?
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