I get why you want to know; you want to know because I won't tell you. It's perplexing; normally you engage someone in conversation online, ask where they live and what they do, and they answer. A simple, common exchange, information filed away for a later date that changes nothing. You spoke to them freely before you asked, so knowing is not the dynamic element in that relationship. If someone lives close to you, you might, after a time, meet in person, have coffee or lunch, and consider developing an IRL friendship. Those with whom you develop an online relationship that live miles away, you keep it online. Perhaps phone calls. But the expectations of meeting face to face are low, because they are unrealistic.
For someone to refuse to share that information smacks of something being not quite right. Why wouldn't someone be willing to say where they live? What they do? Share photos of themselves and their kids and spouse?
I am more of the framework of mind that wonders why people share those things so easily. Many people I know share so freely that even without an exact address, I know so much about them that I could find that address in less than five minutes. Because I've seen pictures of their house/car/spouse/kids, I could theoretically take that information and use it to wreak havoc of levels most people don't want to think about. Because I know their kids' names, birthdays, nicknames, hair color, eye color--everything--were I that sort of person, the heartache I could render would be formidable.
I am not that person. I also choose to not invite that sort of person into my life, online or otherwise.
I don't refuse to share that information because I'm an asshole; I don't refuse to share it because I have something to hide. I refuse to share it because I know how easily it is to be tracked down and hurt, and because I have a wife and kids to whom my first priorities lie, I have to not care if it upsets other people.
Twenty three years ago, before the Internet became this huge thing, before the routine sharing of photos online, before texting and instant messaging and online communities where people could seek out others with similar interests and where hard and fast friendships developed, I walked into my house near Washington D.C.; my then-wife Kathy was seated in a chair in the center of the living room, sobbing wildly, and before I could get three steps into the room to find out what was wrong and console her, I was shot four times.
I still hear every one of those gunshots. The physical scars have faded, and I was fortunate in that the weapon used against me was small caliber, but I sometimes still hear those shots. I know Kathy never got over it, and she spent the rest of our marriage terrified.
It happened because I was a little bit careless on the job one time, allowed just a small tidbit of information about myself to slip loose, and someone with whom I had, to put it nicely, a difficult time with used that information to track me down.
Then it was far less easy to find someone; today it is so easy that what probably took that guy weeks of effort would take a few minutes now.
So no, I won't tell you where I live. For that same reason, I don't plaster pictures of my kids all over the place. For that reason, I went a few degrees of ballistic when Char did. All I want is to protect my family from the choices I made when I was only 22 years old.
That doesn't mean I value less the relationships I've developed online; the fact that anyone can tolerate my paranoia and remain friends with me surprises me, and those are the people I find myself able to engage with. It means a lot to me.
That I don't tell you where I live doesn't mean I don't trust you. It only means that above all, I want to protect my family.
The person online I trust the most--no, she doesn't know exactly where I live. She doesn't have my address. She knows how to get in contact, and she knows the hoops that must be jumped through in order to do something as simple as sending a birthday card, but no, she doesn't have my address.
If someone I have known for over 35 years doesn't have it and is not offended, I would hope that more people get that it's not personal.
If that's not enough, for years my own parents didn't know where I lived; it wasn't until they moved to live with us that they knew.
It's really not personal.
I'm not hiding anything other than the things that would make it easiest to find me.
I am just protective, and to be honest, a little afraid. Because these days, someone hell bent on hurting me would probably not bother trying to hurt me. If you have kids, take a long hard look at them. Wouldn't you do anything and everything to protect them? Even if it made other people point and laugh, and judge your odd paranoiac habits?
I would hope that you would.
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