The other day, I got this question in a comment: “Do you find your fans/followers creepy? the ones you don’t know?”

The think the question was mostly meant in terms of Twitter, where the answer is most definitely no. I have two accounts: the one that’s private (it’s linked to my cell phone, and where I share Dodgeball-style updates about my location) and the new, public account that’s wide open and more a microblog. Granted, when I was at SXSW I was sharing my locations on that Twitter feed, but I was always with big groups of folks and never had any real concerns about being stalked.

So in terms of Twitter, the key for me is maintaining boundaries between the two separate accounts: the one for my “real life” folks, and the one for my internet friends/random strangers. (On this note: beloved internet friends, don’t be miffed if your follow request is denied for my private account.)

But to open the question to a larger context … the answer is a little bit more convoluted.

With the rare exception of the very few readers who slipped into abusive behavior, I find most of the folks who read my blog pretty much the bees knees. I’ve met some truly wonderful people through this website, people who’ve made the full transition to real life flesh and blood friends.

The only aspect that’s creepy is actually completely on my end: since this blog is not the full picture of me or my life, sometimes my “fans/followers” have impressions of me that aren’t fully accurate, and that can impact how they treat me … in ways that might not be creepy, but catch me off guard or piss me off. A few of these misconceptions include that I’m flighty because of the pink hair, childfree because I’m childless, stupid because I seem happy, not anal because I seem bohemian, carefree because I don’t often write about my difficulties, etc.

It’s not creepy that people have these misconceptions about me (because of course I’m the one withholding information), but when these misconceptions turn to delusions about my life somehow being better than theirs or somehow perfect … it definitely starts to feel weird.

Since I’ve done copywriting for 10 years now, I think that in some ways I inadvertently write this blog as though I’m selling myself and my lifestyle. I don’t mean to, but working in marketing for so long has subtly twisted all my writing to be persuasive. The result is that sometimes people mistake the nuanced manipulation of my words as the truth. If I manage to make my life sound interesting, sometimes people then think there’s something wrong with their lives; that somehow mine is better.

THAT gets creepy. And it’s happened several times.

When I get emails that are overly fawning or idolizing, I try to take the time to encourage the reader to come into their own power and awesomeness. I’ve said more than once, “Don’t go putting me upon a pedestal — unless you’re willing to get up on one yourself!” Sometimes this can be a great conversation starter … other times not so much.

I’m reminded of this great quote: Other people’s lives seem more interesting because they ain’t mine. I think that’s the only time I find any “creepiness” in people who read or follow my stuff. It’s only creepy when the reading of my life starts to interfere with people’s enjoyment of their own.