One big leap of faith everybody takes reading this blog is that I actually exist. It is presumed the things I say here are somehow based on truth (at least a little bit). I’ve only presented to you the set of pixels I’ve chosen to display. The internet is known for its blurry photography when it comes to identities, and if you peruse long enough, you will experience non-existent ballerinas, imaginary CIA agents and CEOs of companies that don’t show up in a Google search.
Over the time I’ve been writing these posts, I’ve tried to limit my personal information to that which would lend legitimacy to this site but have mostly kept the details of my so called life fairly close to the vest.
The things that I have presented as truth thus far are:
That I am a man.
That I am married.
That I have two kids.
That I live in the SF Bay Area.
But what if none of these were true? What if the picture of the man at the right side of the header is a phony, just like the photos I’ve included of myself in past posts? What if I’m really a 35 year-old parapalegic woman living in Arizona who decided that it would fun to be someone else?
The idea of misrepresenting yourself online is as old as the internet itself. There is no certification process inside the laptop box. It’s now commonplace to hear stories of men masquerading as women, women as men, stories of deaths and kidnappings culminating in a revelation that it’s all a fraud.
So how can you trust me?
I recently stumbled upon a blog—the blogger liked one of my posts and I checked out hers. It’s intriguing and well-written , packed with attitude, sexual bravado and a premise that seems ready for the big screen:
I sent the Full Time Gangsta link to SR, and we discussed the possibility that it’s not genuine. As mentioned above, the possibility exists, at least in SR’s mind, that this might be a man representing himself as a very attractive woman. It may be a woman fantasizing about her apparent nuclear charisma and smoking hot body. It may be a teenage boy questioning his sexuality.
Or she might just be real.
I think she is. I think she’s a she. I think maybe she lives in a world I can’t imagine, even if it does really exist.
So, you tell me. Is she for real? Am I?
Or all we all just a lying pile of pixels?