I'm Jean Valjean

I used to watch Knightmare on the UK Sci-Fi Channel at 7AM on Saturday mornings. The show that came after it was a low-budget sci-fi romp called My Secret Identity. But this post isn't about that. I've also always been fascinated with people working at staff members for the Justice League, such as Maxwell Lord being their financier or Snapper Carr being their team mascot, without adopting a pseudonym like all the heroes do. But this post isn't about that either.

Belle de Jour mentions in Playing The Game that one of the ultimate lessons learned being a call girl is to keep schtum about who you are. I guess the same counts when being an anonymous sex blogger. My situation, of course, is a little different. I'm not exactly important enough to warrant anyone outing me being any big deal - maybe if I published a bestseller then the Daily Mail would have a go, but seriously. I'm not going to hedge my bets by suddenly introducing myself, "Hi there, I'm _____, oh and don't tell anyone but I'm also Innocent Loverboy, I write a sex blog, and here it is..." I mean, the look on their face would be priceless, but I'm silly, not stupid.

The problem is, sometimes I can't hold my tongue. Three of my best friends, one other blogger, one colleague, one former colleague, my girlfriend, a random girl I know by association, and this bloke I know who won Knightmare all know exactly what I write. Out of those, 47, Mini, Syren, Sandra May, swallow and TD know where to find this blog (whether or not they read it). H and Knightmare Winner don't, but then again, they've never asked.

That makes nine people who know I write a sex blog. That's far too many people, and I'm not counting TD's friends who most likely know too, and people I've randomly told at CCK, as well as people who may have suspicions. My parents have even come close to guessing at certain points (although, to be honest, I haven't hidden it that well - "Thanks for dinner, Dad, just going upstairs to write about... stuff!"). And then there's always the maniacal idea that somebody may discover this blog, start reading it and work out who I am because, well, if you knew me it wouldn't be that hard.

So here's the plan, more for my own benefit than anyone else. Don't. Tell. Anyone. Not Robinson. Not Hairy Friend. Not my sister. Anyone. Let's just keep it to the nine-plus people that know. Because, to be honest, those of you that do know me as ILB will know me a lot more truthfully than those that don't.

So I'm going to start being careful from now on. And, once again, yes, I know this isn't one of those important sex blogs. It's not the best. It's not even one of the best. But I will say this for me: I read back what I've written sometimes, and I'm thoroughly convinced that, out of the sex blogs I know, it's the funniest.