I took an almost two-week break from blogging over the holidays, and I must say it was a much needed retreat.

I’ve been blogging for nearly 3 years, have served up nearly 3 million page views, have weeded out spammers, dodged pleading PR agents who ask me to pimp corporate products and services for free, felt the scourge of irate readers who feel their perspective is the only one that’s right – and I needed to reconnect with the real world.

Yes, blogging can take over your life, or at least take center stage. Even when I’m not blogging, I’m thinking about blog posts. It can be taxing – mentally, emotionally, creatively.

A lot of longtime Dad’s House readers are no longer blogging at all. Some fled to the serenity of single-line Facebook status updates, some took their blogs private, some entered a dating relationship and no longer felt a need to vent.

I started blogging to support my career as a writer, but discovered the act of blogging to be more cathartic than that. Through writing, I learned to connect my head with my heart. Through blogging, I learned to write in a way that women might understand me and other men. Not an easy task, given that more than a few of my blog readers were single moms who hated their ex, and no longer respected men at all.

I wrote what I believed in, tried to be provocative (not just by blogging about sex, but by provoking thought), won over some fans, built a reader base, got some national media attention. (As seen on CNN.com, ABC News video, CBS radio, NPR.org, Toronto Globe & Mail, and McClatchy News syndication) But despite all that, blogging didn’t push my writing career to the level I’d hoped. And then – I needed a break. And I took it.

Guess what? I started dreaming again.

Weird dreams. Vibrant dreams. Colorful dreams. Sexy dreams.

It seems that all the creative energy I put into blogging was drying up my bedtime subconscious fun. Some of the dreams I had these past few weeks, from weird to boring to just plain hot:

• I was at a sort of “fashion show”, except instead of hot Victoria’s Secret models strutting their bare necessity stuff, there were male actors and athletes showing off their chins. Yes, their chins. Dimpled chins. Square-jaw chins. Fabulous cartoon-sized enormous chins. (Talk about weird…)
• I was walking around the country wearing a “Connecticut” sweatshirt. WTF? I’ve never lived in CT, never visited. I’ve driven through a few times on my way to and from NYC. But… huh? (Weird and boring…)
• I hit the beach, and a trio of women spread their beach towels out next to me. Of course, they were statuesque, fit, curvy, beautiful. And of course, since my subconscious was having some fun, they were latina (just my type), and the beach was topless. Yeah, I chatted these three women up. Good things happened (Sexy and hot. Nice)

I must say, despite the fashion-chin-show and the Connecticut sweatshirt oddities, and especially with the topless latinas, I totally enjoyed dreaming again. In three years of blogging, I’ve had maybe two memorable dreams and I blogged about both of them. To dream again every night was refreshing.

It’s the New Year, and I’m taking note of how I want to live my life. Do I really need to have my private bits out there in a public blog? Especially if doing so means revealing my absolute most outrageous moments? (Those are the ones that get page views.) Especially if doing so means I’m hounded by irate readers, PR agencies, and spammers galore? Especially if doing so means that women I meet in real life discover my bloggy escapades (and are often none too pleased.) Especially if blogging means I’m not dreaming?

I’m not sure how much longer Dad’s House blog will be open. I’ll take it a week at a time. Anyone with a blogging opinion should feel free to weigh in.

Or if you’d rather hit a sexy topless beach, we can do that too. I’ll bring the sunscreen.

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