Secrets and Eggshells

FeralGeek

Active member
"She deserves to be more than a secret!"

No no, I understand that you're joking, my dearly beloved cousin, but let me be shaken for a moment by your bumble bee zinger.

Obviously you know my family and know that there are some things my parents and I will never agree on and simply keep those parts of ourselves unspoken and unseen. No one is seriously considering parading my brand new girlfriend out immediately upon deciding ourselves that we want to keep pursuing this thing, like some kind of show pony or debutante, but there is more to this story than mere caution or precaution.

Not even you, dear cousin, know that my girlfriend is already happily married to a wonderful man and we are all quite happy with this new arrangement, so you'll have to forgive my protectiveness of some bits of information regarding this newfound joy in my eyes and woman in the crook of my arm. My first foray into openly living a poly lifestyle is exciting and new and while I am shouting it from the rooftops to certain friends and confidants, you can quickly grok why I'd not be enthused about dragging my aging boomer evangelical parents into the 21st century using MY life as yet another "learning opportunity."

No, "secret" in the context of your joke requires an underlying shame; some naughtiness or taboo nature that demands secrecy in order to prevent unpleasant consequences, but my unrevealed details aren't scandalous to anyone who's opinion I give a shit about. I have been disappointing my parents with my life choices for almost 40 years, I don't care about their thoughts on the sanctity of their (ended in divorce) marriage, and often delight making them uncomfortable in fresh and interesting ways. No, sweet cousin, this new joy I've found, this sheltered oasis from the reciprocal love and judgement of a holy home would be, much like most of the parts of me my family always found worth ignoring, simply too something-or-other to bother learning anything about.

There are few years left to be harried by vestigial hang-ups and irrelevant (harsh) judgments from retirees. This little secret of mine is simply too precious to me, too valuable to risk entrusting into their reckless, disrespectful clutches, not even for a moment. This fragile, gossamer thing we've found is something we're working hard to cultivate and nurture and stoke, I'll not let oafs who can't appreciate it ruin it for sport.

So no, I disagree with the terminology. She is not a secret; she is a treasure.
 
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It's perfectly fine to not be out to everyone. We all know that some people just can't handle the truth.

Love,
Aging boomer Mags (age 70)
 
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