|This hasn’t actually happened yet–Source|
I don’t have many friends and the
few I get comfortable with are besieged with the intricate details of my life
which may not be TMI but a melancholic persona like me should have learnt to
keep a secret.
I’m am horrible at keeping juicy details
of the supposed classified nature to myself and with the hubby, it is
outrageous, the speed with which I will divulge the workings of my day and ask
his, which he will of course tell me whilst unwinding from another routinely
mundane day at the office. I sometimes pick up the phone immediately to let him
know, even in the middle of a ‘snowstorm’.
Those who have love and lost and
do give advice freely, heck what is cheaper than advise these day, admonish my
child-like enthusiasm and fear that in the future, if my love is lost (God
forbid), I will regret telling all my tiny little secrets to one I love now
more than ever. Whose face is nothing but angelic in sleep and who as Beyoncé sang ‘I balled up my fist and I realised I was
sleeping right next to you’, (cue 1+1, click here to see her again; sizzling
with sensual passion!) is how I feel about him.
I fear that keeping things in,
either the gossip, the romantic or angry, will turn me into a poked puffer
fish, and no one will like to see that! My cheeks are already quite big! Have
you seen me?!
So ladies and gentlemen, please tell me, should I keep secrets from the one who
I’m planning the rest of my life with? Or I should love hard and forget the haters?