All Quiet On The Fritz Front

The Lost Art of Keeping SecretsOrdinarily, I share what’s going on in my life like I am Hello Magazine and people in my life have organised a daily subscription. HERE is everything I have done since you saw me last, THIS is every thought I have had about everything since I last spoke to you, etc etc.

This Fritz Business isn’t something I have volunteered. In fact, I’m slightly taken aback myself by how private I have been.

Granted, I have told a few people before now. The people who see me most often or who guessed something was up (so many plane tickets, yet so few photos on Facebook…what gives?).

I guess the main reason is that I didn’t want to have to EXAMINE what was going on. I didn’t want to have to discuss where this is going or what kind of a future does this have or but you live here and he lives there and BREXIT.

I didn’t want to poke holes in it. I wanted to keep it safe in the packaging and enjoy it before it got bashed about.

I also didn’t want to have to be mortified if it all fell apart. Embarrassed for having mentioned a boy and have my friends remember enough about him to ask about him and then watch their faces reconfigure when I say he’s no longer on the scene. To hear “well, I didn’t think he was right for you” or “but we knew he wasn’t a serious option” from friends who had previously been enthused about him. As a single person, there’s an element of self-preservation, even with your friends. Your own disappointment you can handle on your own with some wine and low-level misery. Their disappointment for you – or worse! Lack of disappointment because they knew better – is harder to manage.

I mean, he lives in Munich. I don’t.

I also didn’t want to talk about how he’s very good at his job and his job is more important that mine (he has a career, I have a job) and not get into a feminist argument about equally valued work. Or how I don’t WANT to move to Munich and wouldn’t ASK him to move here.

I didn’t want to have to think about how he’s GERMAN and I swore blind I would never end up with a German, or that he’s VERY Catholic and I am suspicious of that (not in him, but in people) because where I come from you never mention your faith, you just get on with it and, if anything, are bashful about it. I didn’t want to think about how he genuinely wears Lederhosen, not as a costume, but because he is proud of where he is from (patriotism is NOT something I am familiar with). Or how he’s nothing like my type.

I didn’t want to talk about how I actually really like him, that he stands up to me and my big mouth in a nice way that makes me feel safe. Or that I really like him a lot, enough to get on a plane for a first date when I generally think Brixton (about three tube stops) is too far away for some BOY.

That he’s not actually Some Boy. That he might be quite special. That if he IS special, what am I going to DO about it? How do I KNOW he’s special? Remember how I thought this other person was special? Remember how I spent/wasted all that time on that other special person?

For once, I just wanted to be, rather than think. Even if it felt like a secret and I didn’t want it to be. I’m not ashamed or hiding it, I just kept it for me for a little bit, rather than put it out on the Front Page.

 

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