I came out of the closet to one of my oldest friends a few weeks ago. For some reason unbeknownst to me I was so nervous about him reading anything I'd written. Maybe it's because he is ruled by his head, while I am ruled by my heart, or because when faced with adversity he gets through all of the kack with a grin on his face, whereas I tend to let life beat me down too easily and find it easy to succumb to the darkness that seeps into my veins once in a while. Maybe it's because I have an admiration for him which compels me to try and be a better version of me than the me I tend to think I am (and the one I don't very much like).

Whatever the reason I decided I needed to tell him about my secret blogging lifestyle, so with my heart in my mouth I wrote him an e-mail telling him all about this little place of mine, told him where to find it, told him he didn't have to read it if he didn't want to but that I'd feel proud if he did. I was stupidly nervous.

But I wasn't nervous because I knew he'd rip the piss out of me, on the contrary, throughout our friendship of ten years I've actually actively sought his piss-taking. It's a sign that we're a-okay, that we're still mates, that we still enjoy taking the piss out of each other.

Instead I was nervous that he wouldn't take the piss out of it. That he'd find nothing worthy of piss-taking. That he wouldn't like it. That he'd think I was no good whatsoever at writing. That I wasn't worth the cyber space I took up.

But instead, I got an e-mail back from him that put a massive, ear-to-ear grin on my chubby face...Your blog is great. Brimming with slushy girl pap.

That may not sound like much to anyone else, but to me it said a thousand words and it meant a whole lot.

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