My boyfriend thinks I can’t keep secrets. The thing about keeping secrets is that no one knows the ones you keep successfully. You can’t exactly crow about them, can you? I tell the things I don’t consider worthy of the title “secret,” and don’t tell the things I do consider worthy of it, and I find myself with the impulse to move things from the former category to the latter just to prove him wrong.
I don’t think he’d say that was an improvement. But maybe he shouldn’t have said I was bad at it.
If I find a meteor is hurtling toward the planet and I don’t tell anyone, you know who to blame.
Tell! Tell! I won’t tell anyone, I promise.
I’m suspicious! Chris probably gave you a dollar to get me to talk!
Of course, it was a secret that you weren’t going to reveal the planet’s impending doom to everyone, and now you’ve given that away.
You really ARE bad at this…
As I prepare to munch on my ninja snickerdoodles, I am forced to retract everything bad I’ve ever said about you, Julie.
Ninja’d!