B, whom I once informed about this blog - since he has one of his own he's since abandoned. It seems puzzling that someone I spent the better part of a year with wouldn't want to ask me about my own writing, even when I once opened that door as I'd kissed him sweetly and said, "I hope you don't mind, I do write about you." He'd twinkled at me, returned the kiss and never asked.
One would think that in his search for commonalities, THE basis that B always purported made for successful relationships, writing would be a bond rather than a non-factor. But there it is. Don't ask, don't tell.