I don’t remember how it got started, but the conversation at one of our get-togethers with friends turned toward a game of secret telling. The point was that each of us should take a turn at revealing a secret about oneself that was previously unknown.
By definition “secret” is something that is intentionally kept hidden and unknown. Why would anyone want to willingly give up a secret that until that moment was deemed too important or sensitive or embarrassing to reveal? Good and trustworthy friends or not, I opted out of the game by saying I have no secrets, that what you see is what you get. Lame, I know, but my secrets are mine to keep and not fodder for the conversational mill.
Equally embarrassing is listening to other’s revelations. I really don’t want to know that you sometimes pee in the shower or that you open a package of cookies and eat them while shopping or that you pick your nose when you think no one is looking. Some secrets are better kept that way, thank you very much. I think that some of the secrets are made up anyway just to get a rise out of the audience. I’m sure that if I revealed that I am actually a cross-dressing CIA assassin with a passion for wearing stiletto heels and fishnet stockings, no one would believe me anyway. So I’m not going to tell you that. Maybe it’s true and maybe it isn’t. Only I know the secret.