Strange lives that we lead. Full of secrets, because no one ever tells anyone everything about themselves. It might not be intentional. You might forget to tell your lover that you hate the smell of cinnamon until you come home and there's a candle lit ... you might not tell her that you hate peas until after she's cooked you dinner.
There's the bigger secrets. Secrets that we keep to protect each other, or to protect ourselves. Like the big secret - the big gay secret. My mother found out by accident, or else I might have hidden it for God only knows how many more years. She found my tattoo... which is, incidentally, very obvious. Funny, I joked with my friends about coming out with it, but I never actually intended to. (for the curious, it's the silhouette of a nude pinup girl within a keyhole. I know. Subtle.) Or other secrets, like that time that you got involved in your best friend's business and accidentally caused a huge blow out. Sure, you're selfishly protecting yourself, but it really wouldn't do any good to tell her... other than for honesty's sake, or to soothe your guilty conscience.
I spoke with someone once about cheating. She said that you shouldn't tell your partner. The only reason that you would is to selfishly relieve the burden on your own conscience. However, you're only transferring the burden to your partner. Now they have to deal with the pain of your betrayal and the heaviness of never being able to trust you again. My argument is that the trust is only false, because you've still broken it regardless of whether or not they're aware.
Then there's the secrets that we keep because they're difficult and complicated to explain. Despite identifying as a lesbian (before I was aware of pansexuality), I dated a man for nearly four years. Yet when people inquired, I still insisted that I was a lesbian... which inevitably ended in the "but aren't you dating a man...?" and then I'd have to defend my decision by saying that he was the exception rather than the rule, and he was pretty much a woman anyway, and have you ever met a male lesbian? Long story.
And then there's the big secret. The secret that makes me an outsider even in our minority society. Because feminism says that it's wrong. Because every natural urge says that it's violating basic human rights. It's called a Dominant/submissive relationship, and I'm a happy little subbie. That's right. Collar me and confine me to the kitchen - what a dream. Want me to bake you delicious treats and do your laundry and provide a willing bed partner at your beck and call? Let me at it. This is one of those things that I never really tell people. And if I do, I tell them "I like to be tied up" or "I'm a masochist." Because if you confine it to the bedroom, it's a great deal easier to understand. People don't comprehend when you explain that you love serving people. No, not just in the bedroom, in everyday life. It's a struggle within myself, too. It isn't easy to be a natural submissive raised to be a strong, independent woman. When my Dominant tells me to get Her a drink, part of me says "Get it Your damn self" at the same time as part of me says "Yes Ma'am."
Here's another secret: I hate peas. I think they're vile. Shout out to anyone who read that and said... hey! That's from 10 Things I Hate About You. Guilty as charged.