Living Happily Ever After

test123

Blog Articles

Don’t Tell Women Your Secrets

“Am I now supposed to go on Oprah and cry and tell you my deepest, darkest secrets because you want to know?” (Kevin Spacey)

In a word? Yes. Especially if you’re a 5th grade boy.

My middle son just completed the 5th grade today. He learned a lot this year, academically as well as socially, including some important life lessons. For instance, I’ll never forget the day he came home and said, with complete disgust, “Mom! NEVER tell women your secrets!”

I was somewhat offended. I mean, I know I’m very open with what I share on this blog, but I would never betray a trust of confidence placed in me, whether it be from a stranger, a friend, a family member or even an enemy (although I hope I don’t have any of those!) I never have and I never will. My children, of all people, should know that.

And then it hit me. This is my boy with a lot of personality and dazzling blue eyes. He has had girls chasing him (one even paid him coins every time he’d go to her house to play!) since kindergarten. I hoped I wasn’t right in my suspicion, but I had a sinking feeling he’d been a little too honest about something regarding the opposite sex.

“Uh, oh!” I said. “You didn’t tell a girl which girl you like, did you?” Everyone knows not to do that, don’t they?

“How did you know?” he asked.

“Just a guess, but now you know: NEVER do that,” I replied. “I’m sorry, I thought you knew that.”

“But mom, SHE asked me for the information,” he explained. “She PROMISED me she wouldn’t tell anyone, and then she went RIGHT to the girl and told her!”

“And?” I asked.

“And now the girls who like ME are mad!” he said. “NEVER tell women your secrets!” A very poignant lesson. And he stormed off to take his frustration out on the trampoline. He did some wicked flips that day.

“Dolphins. They think they’re so cute. ‘Oh, look at me, I’m a flippy little dolphin, let me flip for you.’” (Chum, “Finding Nemo”)

Just don’t tell a girl who you’ve flipped for…if you’re an 11-year-old boy!

A very important life lesson to learn.

Bachelor #19: The Barracuda

“I think fish is nice, but then I think that rain is wet, so who am I to judge? (Douglas Adams)

The following is not going to sound like it’s coming from a woman in her 40s, college educated, who has seen her fair share of the world, but here it is:

If I was a baby guppy fish, Bachelor #19 was a barracuda!

Don’t get me wrong. Bachelor #19 was a law abiding citizen and a good person. I don’t want to give the mistaken impression that he was dangerous–not in the axe-murderer, serial killer sense of the word anyway. It’s just that he was handsome, several years older than me, and CLEARLY much more experienced and worldly-wise than I was.

We had different core beliefs, values and lifestyles. He had grandchildren, I had a four-year-old.

So I’m not sure what the attraction was for him. I never asked him. He just always said, “My gosh, you’re cute!” (But not in those exact words. I’ve edited his colorful way of expressing himself.) And he asked me out. A lot.

But he made me nervous.

He made me feel as if I was getting in way over my head. I think I was. But at least I was smart enough to sense that. So I took the cowardly approach and was “busy” every time he asked me out. I quit returning his calls.

“If you define cowardice as running away at the first sign of danger, screaming and tripping and begging for mercy, then yes, Mr. Brave man, I guess I’m a coward.” (Jack Handy)

The thing I remember most about Bachelor #19, aside from his colorful language and the “something” about him that made me nervous, was how patient he was to me in my cowardice. He didn’t get mean, rude or hostile. He continued to be kind, patient, complimentary and understanding of my hesitation. Until one day, he finally gave up and quit asking me out.

“Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple.” (Dr. Seuss)

Goodbye, Bachelor #19.

This fish isn’t biting.