Putting it in the Vault

Today I had a conversation with a widow who is a few years older than I am, in which she revealed to me, without a lot of prodding, some of her feelings on dating, sex and remarriage. She had recently terminated a relationship of several months that had gone nowhere and was not inclined to share her bed (or finances) with any man in the future. She would enjoy having a travel companion that is not a woman and is lonely sometimes at night, but beyond that does not see the need for a man, especially one who might need her for her culinary or laundry skills. With all do respect to her feelings, I suspect that she just hasn't found the right man who is as wonderful as she remembers that her first husband was--not yet, and probably (statistically) never.

After the conversation, in which we touched on topics such as older people having sex, and the financial advantages of co-habitation for social security benefits, she asked for my discretion in sharing anything personal that she had revealed. I was happy to assure her that I would "put it in the vault" like Elaine on Seinfeld.

Upon reflection, I am annoyed with the whole notion of putting it in the vault. How much stuff can that vault hold without some of it spilling out? As I get older and possibly more forgetful, what guarantee is there that I will remember which data is classified?

In a particular Seinfeld episode, Elaine's vault opened wide after a few drinks!

I try not to say anything that needs to be ''vaulted." I have been burned by sharing thoughts that I assumed no one in their right mind would repeat inappropriately. Once I subsequently heard from the talked about and offended one a distorted version of the conversation: "I heard that you don't like me." That wasn't even close to the thoughts I had so foolishly expressed, but the damage had been done. You do learn who not to trust. But it's safer to not share.

Once an acquaintance at a women's conference, where we had heard some stats on sexual abuse, shared that as a young teen she had been "used" by her older brother for years--and enjoyed it! I knew that older brother. I am forever disturbed by that image.

As much as I might relish hearing the juicy details of your life, just as I enjoy a good novel or a television drama, PLEASE, don't tell me stuff and then say, "don't tell." It really is rather junior high slumber party-ish. I don't want my brain cluttered with a vault-load of your personal trash! (Meaner is Cleaner)