One of my biggest issues with living with my mother is that she gets to know a lot about my life. More than I wanted her to know. She's told me about her thoughts about my date, about my reconnecting with friends, and about my boy.
Speaking of which - I've kept his secrets. I would never tell anyone about what he tells me. These thoughts, memories, whatevers, belong to him. I'm grateful that he wants to tell me. It's really a privilege to know more about someone I love.
Saturday night I told him one of my more recent, yet one of the closest, secrets that I have. Since then, he's teased me about it. Once, or (okay maybe) twice, he's brought it up. Tonight felt like the last straw. Once he teased me about it again, I said, "Hey! I've never said anything about the secret you told me!" He agreed. Then he pondered why I've never teased him about his.
This is why. This, this, THIS is why: Using information you have on me as a weapon against me is NEVER OK. Never. It hurts me in ways that I can't really explain. Taking myself, and using it against me? Damn, that really hurts.
I thought he knew that.
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