I’ll Never Tell

I hate being in the position when someone says, don’t tell anyone what I’m about to say…promise me. You’re suddenly saddled with a secret you never wanted to know to begin with.

And let’s face it, the moment one person reveals something, it’s no longer a secret, is it?

Discretion is my middle name. Growing up in Connecticut, if for no other reason you were taught to keep your mouth shut because it looked better with the seersucker skirt and blazer you were wearing. Throw in being Italian and forget it. Your mouth was clamped right out of the womb.

Clemenza was there waiting with a manual explaining the dos and don’ts on being Italian (and if you don’t know who Clemenza is, don’t talk to me. You need to take Godfather 101).

My mother had affairs when I was a kid. Since all players are dead I feel it’s okay to write about it. She taught me never to admit anything even if you’re caught red-handed.

That’s the flip side of discretion…denial.

One morning a woman came to confront her over an alleged tryst she was having with her husband. I was seven still in my slip getting ready for school. I hid behind the stereo to hear what they were saying. My mother, cool as a cucumber said, “Why Dorthea, I don’t know what you’re taking about. It wasn’t me, I swear. images-1 Wanna a cuppa coffee?”

I’ll never forget it. The woman’s veins were popping out of her neck while my mother sat there like Loretta Young in slippers and an apron.

Made a huge impression on me.

I too look calm even if my insides are doing the tango. Of course this is a perfect way to have a coronary, but I’m my mother’s daughter in more ways than one.

But back to secrets. Just yesterday Trudy, my annoying neighbor, called to tell me someone we knew had a complete facelift that made her look like Beyonce when she’s not even black. This was definitely news I did not want to know. First of all, if I saw her, would I even recognize her? Secondly, I’m dying to tell Camille because she knows her too.

I then do what I always do, make it about me. How would I feel confiding in someone like Trudy who’s big mouth is legendary and they told the world? What was she thinking anyway. She may as well have taken out an ad in the New York Post.

I hate being gossiped about so I tell myself, no…you will not tell Camille. She nor anyone else does not need to know that Erica, I’ll call her, had a complete renovation…not unless it was her kitchen or patio.

The phone is ringing. Oh no, it’s Camille.

“Hi, how are ya?…

What’s new? Oh nothing…just Swiffing is all. Did I hear what…Beyonce, you don’t say. Huh, isn’t that something.”

That’s the other thing my mother taught me…feign ignorance. Then no one can blame you when a person finds out her secret’s outta the bag.

Yeah, my mother could have lectured at Smith alright or the Mata Hari School of Marriage.

Care to enroll?



About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Amazon.com. Thanks.
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20 Responses to I’ll Never Tell

  1. micklively says:

    I’m sure I’m just being dumb ‘cos I don’t understand girly-speak, but isn’t the whole point of a facelift that it makes you look different? And, if so, how can it be a secret? Anyone you know who sees you, can detect the change; else why spend (waste) the money?
    I know what you mean about unsolicited revelations, though. I suspect the real motive is “don’t tell anyone, ‘cos I want to tell everyone”.


    • Not always…but of course in her case it was extreme so yes, the world will eventually know. I just think initially you try to be discreet about your vanity that in her case clearly got out of hand. I know another woman who did that…went to Hawaii on vacation and came back looking like Jessica Lang. I almost asked for her autograph…lol


  2. katecrimmins says:

    Yep I hate to get in the middle of these things too. I have some very private friends and then some blabbermouth friends. I love them both but I have learned that even a little slip can get you in doodoo. I worked with a guy whose son committed suicide. Everyone was wanting to know why he died (he was 21) but he lived in another state so there wasn’t the usual scuttlebutt going on. Family was very private. Kept that secret to this day (now I splattered it out here). Not my story to tell. In the case of facelifts, I just tell people they look fabulous. Isn’t that what they want to hear? My neighbor swears she didn’t have one but her husband tells a different story. I really don’t care either way.


  3. I hate that, but I am a great secret keeper… just pray I never get truth serum or it could get ugly! I have done the exact same thing, feign ignorance… well played, my friend, well played.


  4. skinnyuz2b says:

    Oh Susannah, secrets make me want to burst! Please don’t ever tell me a really great piece of news and then tell me I can’t tell anyone. Plus, I always worry that someone else will put the word out and I’ll get blamed.


    • Secrets are a burden Skinny, I know. I prefer not to be entrusted with them but you know how it is, especially if you’re known as a first class listener. I rarely talk so women love that about me since that means they get the floor with all their ‘don’t tells.’


  5. The worst thing to have to carry around is an unwanted secret. Best just to pretend you don’t know, as you said.


    • Secrets never remain secrets for long. I recently confided in someone and she blabbed it to someone else who keeps contacting me trying to be Sir Lancelot. GO AWAY….from now on…I’ll talk to myself before I tell anyone anything I wish to keep under wraps. In all fairness, I thought I could trust her…WRONG!


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