Monday, January 18, 2010

I don't get secrets...

Maybe I am to simple, but I don't get secrets. When you are a kid, especially a girl child, there are always secrets. They start early and they are never seem to be constructive.

Don't tell Emily we are having a tea party, see you at 2:00!
Let's have a club but don't tell Ellie.
Mommy said you have a big butt, but I'm not suppose to tell you.
Did you know Rachel went to Scott house last weekend and she hasn't broken up with David.

One might argue that as an adult there are secrets that are necessary and harmless.

Dave's Surprise 50th Party--Shhh! Don't tell!
Marcy had a nose job but told everyone she was helping orphans in Peru.
Jane was meeting with a Head Hunter the other day at lunch, but tell anyone I saw them.
That was awesome honey, you are amazing in bed.

But I still don't get secrets. When someone tells me "not to tell" it's like they have handed me a burning torch that I am suppose to stick in my pocket. No Thank You! Why give me information that I'm not allowed to share. What else is there to do with information? Some people really thrive on secrets. Maybe they also do really well at Clue. No one ever wanted to play Clue with me because I blew the minute they handed over the cards - "It can't be Mrs. White, with the candlestick in the Library!!"

Ultimately secrets are selfish. They do not take into consideration the person that is suppose to guard the information. The teller may feel relieved to get it off their chest, but they have just asked someone else to carry the burden. And let's not forget those people who thrive on the satisfaction of saying, "I'm not suppose to tell you this but". They feel vindicated in calling the person out, and now someone else has to pretend not to know.

I think secrets are a terrible part of childhood that should stay there. Grown-ups who've moved past the fourth grade should act like it. There's only on secret that should be required and that's Santa Claus.

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