“I need to tell you about last night,” my friend said, and I leaned in. She paused, and looked at me for a moment. “It’s for the vault,” she said firmly.
“Okay?” We deepen our connection and trust with the people we love by offering them private information. Credit: ISTOCK Ah, the vault, I thought. That locked room in my mind.
The repository for all my secrets. I used to love nothing more than a request to keep something secret. It made me feel trusted, and valued, and important, and meant that exciting information was forthcoming.
As a school kid, my favourite conversations with friends all began with the command, “You can’t tell anyone this.” I still remember the tingly anticipation I felt awaiting the thrilling disclosure. It was, inevitably, a crush on a boy, or some drama with a girl in the class.
When you’re a 12-year-old, crushes and fights are the most titillating bits of intel imaginable. I’m still interested in hook-ups and break-ups, but they no longer excite me the same way. I’ve been told of some pretty significant secrets in my time – from affairs, to secret children, to gambling problems, to bankruptcies – so the bar for titillation has been significantly raised.
In truth, however, most of the information people wish to be kept secret are disappointingly mundane: a fortune dropped on an impulse purchase, a not-yet-announced promotion, a kid getting suspended at school. Usually, it’s easy to keep a secret locked in my vault, parti.
