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I started dating a guy (not from the Internet, although I do think he would appreciate my burning gingerbread house profile picture) who likes reading my blogs out loud to me. It’s a sweet but strange experience that makes me painfully aware of my tendency to use awkwardly long lists and excessive qualifiers.

A couple of evenings ago, he read aloud to me while I sat on the couch and tried to concentrate on a riveting episode of Chopped. In response to my squirming and grumbling, he amicably switched to reading someone else’s blog out loud. I liked that much better until he laughed and said, “She’s funny!”

In general, I don’t feel necessarily competitive (I was more of a “social athlete” in college), but I did feel a little “Oh-no-she-isn’t” twinge kick an extra beat into my heart. Three funny blogs in, I asked him to please go back to reading mine out loud instead.

Days later, I’m trying to figure out what stirred in me. Was it blog envy? Some kind of primal urge to mark my digital territory? Could I have been jealous of her humor prowess?

One of the wonderful things about blogging is that everyone can do it, regardless of how “good” they are. Any 13-year-old with public library access and a dash of tenacity can scoop up some online earth to call their own. So, I’ve always been comfortable knowing there are bloggers out there who are funnier, smarter, deeper, more cultured and more well-read than I am (even some of those 13-year-olds). They challenge the rest of us to be better writers.

As this post is read aloud to me, I’ll listen quietly and dig deep into my soul to source the cause of my discomfort. I’ll also try to use more metaphors.