Last week, one of my favorite tweeps and bloggers wrote about having a secret. As she always does with her writing, Caroline inspired me to think a little bit. Or rather a lot. I have been thinking about secrets ever since reading that entry on Thursday.
I often laud myself as an open book, but if I'm being honest, I'm really not. I'm actually pretty guarded, only letting people see pieces of me over time. And there are some things about me that no one knows. No one. Maybe no one ever will.
Some secrets are bad. Mostly if they could potentially hurt you or someone else.
But there are some things best kept to yourself. A few years ago, I developed a crush on a local guy I refer to only as Eye Candy. It made my day to see him. Just see him. That's all it took to make me smile and feel good. Glimpses of him were rare, which probably only added to the joy. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder," right? To this day, I've never revealed his identity to anyone. Several people asked and begged to know who I was tweeting and posting about, but I wasn't giving him up. I think the number one reason for keeping his identity a secret was to avoid the humiliation I experienced in high school. But I also think I really just enjoyed having something that was all mine.
I still see Eye Candy every now and then, but he doesn't hold the same appeal. Even if our "secret affair" is over, I'm still not telling who he is. That's my secret.
One of them.
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