It's over.

It is Midnight. The last day of August. My month of blogging every day is over. In the beginning of the month, I told you that I wanted to do Nablopomo (National Blog Posting Month) as a writing exercise and a personal challenge. I also wanted a shiny Nablopomo badge for my sidebar. Well, it was a long haul, but I kept going until the end.

One of the things I learned is that you publish a lot of bad stuff when you publish a post every day. It’s miserable, and I whined about it. (I take solace in whining.) But I learned something else. There is an inescapable honesty in these bad posts. They are naked. They are what they are. I had to be a bit courageous to publish these bad posts. I had to just let it all hang out.

Unfortunately, I was not successful in my Nablopomo. Even though I published a post for every day in August, I was late publishing some of these posts. I missed my deadlines. So, I will not get my shiny Nablopomo badge.

But it's OK. I will keep going. Just not every day. Because publishing a post every day is really miserable.

The Tell-Tale Post, with apologies to Edgar Allen Poe.

I had been very nervous. Very, very nervous. Nablopomo (National Blog Posting Month) had sharpened my senses. I heard every little sound. But I was not crazy. No. Look at how calmly I tell you this story.

I can’t say how I first got the idea to do Nablopomo. But once I had the idea, it haunted me day and night. I liked posting on my blog. I didn’t mind that it didn’t bring me any money. Not having many page loads did not matter. But I think it was the tiny heads who were following me, with their tiny eyes. Whenever I saw them, I felt so anxious.

Now, you will think I am crazy. But I just wanted to lay my head on my pillow and go to sleep. I even felt a bit relieved. I didn’t really need to publish a post for Nablopomo. My computer was using its screen saver, so I could not see the tiny heads with the tiny eyes. I listened to the rain falling on the roof of my house while everyone else was sleeping. But then I heard a low sigh. I thought it was the wind, or a mouse. Maybe it was Adam or Five. But no. It was my blog, sighing as it heard Death approach. I knew that sound so well. It was like the sound of a clock, ticking away the minutes until the deadline to publish. I grew resentful of my blog, demanding that I publish a post every day. My anger increased, and I felt as if I might delete it.

But I stopped myself. I lay frozen in my bed, but the hellish ticking of the minutes continued. Tick, tick, tick. My blog’s terror must have been growing larger. Would I publish a post? Now, at this dead hour of the night? The house was silent, but the ticking grew louder and louder until I thought it must wake everyone and the neighbours too. Tick, tick, tick.

I shut down my computer. But for many minutes, the computer closed applications and began to install updates. Still, a tick, tick, tick, until the computer stopped. Finally, all was quiet. I rested my hand on the computer, and it was still. Maybe you think I’m crazy. But I hid the computer in a drawer. It had been a long day. I didn’t want to publish a post. I picked up my book and began to read. But then, there was an alert on my phone. I had a DM. I looked to see who was there, with an easy heart, because what did I have to fear? My blog with its tiny heads was shut down inside my computer.

It was @ThreeOfficers on Twitter. They were from Nablopomo. My father had alerted them when I did not publish a post on my blog, and suspicion had been aroused. They were obliged to look for a post. I lied and told them I was planning to publish a post, but I had been feeling ill. I said, I will turn on my computer and you can search for it. You will see that I have a post to publish. Then I gave them permission to remotely access my computer.

@ThreeOfficers was satisfied. They found some drafts for posts that had not been published. We chatted on Twitter about the Emmys. But before long, I really wished they would go away. I had a headache, but still they chatted. Why would they not leave me alone? I continued to chat on Twitter, but I heard a ticking sound. It was the tick, tick, tick sound of the clock. It grew louder and louder, but of course @ThreeOfficers could not hear it. I argued about Glenn Beck and Koch Industries, and I grew more flustered and annoyed. Oh, God! What would make it stop? Anything was better than this suffering, this pain. I felt that I would die if I continued to hear the ticking of the clock.

“OK!” I yelled in all caps. “I WILL PUBLISH THE BLOODY POST!”

Does sex make it impossible for men and women to be friends?

Harry: Would you like to have dinner?... Just friends.
Sally: I thought you didn't believe men and women could be friends.
Harry: When did I say that?
Sally: On the ride to New York.
Harry: No, no, no, no, I never said that... Yes, that's right, they can't be friends. Unless both of them are involved with other people, then they can... This is an amendment to the earlier rule. If the two people are in relationships, the pressure of possible involvement is lifted... That doesn't work either, because what happens then is, the person you're involved with can't understand why you need to be friends with the person you're just friends with. Like it means something is missing from the relationship and why do you have to go outside to get it? And when you say "No, no, no, no, it's not true, nothing is missing from the relationship," the person you're involved with then accuses you of being secretly attracted to the person you're just friends with, which you probably are. I mean, come on, who the hell are we kidding, let's face it. Which brings us back to the earlier rule before the amendment, which is men and women can't be friends.

When Harry Met Sally... is a 90 minute meditation on the impossibility of men and women being friends. Movies and TV suggest to us friendships between men and women must result in some kind of romance, but I want to think there is a wider range of possibility in these friendships than what Harry and Sally faced.

Before the 20th century, men and women lived and worked in separate spheres, and friendships between the genders were rare. Even today, friendships between the sexes have ambiguous boundaries. Voluntary gender separation is still common. (Think of those parties when men may go off to one corner, and women to the other.)

Friendships between men and women can be so intimate. Sometimes sexual interest and sexual appreciation flare up. However, this is different from having sex. It is about the possibility of what could have happened if circumstances were different. Or it can be reassurance that we are still attractive or sexy. These kinds of attachments can and should be a support system. But can these friendships really work? Or does the presence of desire doom friendships between men and women? And what about the awkwardness of its absence?

Men and women tend to be subtle and creative when building friendships. Men probably get more out of it. In a friendship with a woman, men are able to share their feelings or personal reflections, something that they might be less likely to do with other men. Maybe women benefit because friendships with men are light and fun. (I was going to add that women can find out how men think, but men actually are not that difficult to figure out. They are simple creatures.)

Platonic relationships between men and women seem unlikely in our culture. People outside these friendships often assume the couple is having sex. If they are not having sex, the number one thing men and women do in these friendships is talk. And a spouse may be just as jealous of talking as of sex.

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