Whenever I wrote an online profile, I used to introduce myself with:

Hi! I’m Pace. I’m a bi poly kinky pagan gamer geek.

Now I say:

Hi! I’m Pace. I’m a spiritual idealist entrepreneur.

I’m still bi, I’m still poly, I’m still kinky, I’m still pagan(ish), I’m still a gamer, and I’m a geek. I still identify with each and every one of those labels.

So why the change?

It’s because of marketing. And since marketing is communication, it’s about communication.

The point of communication is to successfully convey what you want to convey. What you intend to convey doesn’t matter as much as the actual result of your communication — what the other person ends up understanding.

What does this have to do with your online profile, Pace?

How you identify doesn’t matter as much as the actual result of what you write about yourself. What kind of people will it resonate with? What will the outcome be?

In my case, I already have oodles of cool friends who are bi poly kinky pagan gamer geeks. When you co-lead the Freak Revolution, you can expect that. (: But I don’t have many friends who are spiritual idealist entrepreneurs, especially not in Austin. So that’s what I want to focus on.

Of course, honesty is paramount. If people feel baited and switched (regardless of whether you intended to bait and switch them), no one wins. But even among the true stories, there are millions of different true stories you can tell about yourself. Each of them will resonate differently with different people.

What story do you want to tell?

Wait, this isn’t just about online profiles?

Can you see how this applies to everything?

• Your website
• Your blog
• Your business
• How you dress
• What you talk about on a first date
• How and where you spend your money
• How and where you spend your time
• How you live your life

In everything you do, you tell a story. Sometimes with words, sometimes with actions. Usually, we think self-consciously, “What does this story say about me?”

Today, I want you to think about this question instead:

What outcome will result from this story?

She stood at the bus stop til it was abundantly clear he wasn’t coming, her whole being filled with abandonment, fear, guilt. Her white dress, dark with mud at the hem, grew heavier with each tick of a clock she couldn’t hear with her ears – only with her heart.

100 golden balloons sparkled in the pale setting sunlight. She stared at them, willing them to tarnish with her dreams, but they remained bright, shining, mocking. 100 golden ribbons wrapped around her hand, holding her, rooting her to the spot.

Night falls, the stars come out. 100 golden balloons, 100 golden ribbons, abandoned at the bus stop, tied to the post. Lonely footprints, a trail of broken promises and ignored tears, wander off into the quiet dark.