the keeper

Trust me. I won't tell a soul.

I won't mention to your wife the next time I see her, that you asked me for a private session.
I'll try to forget the image I have in my mind of your 61 year old, male single self, walking around in your apartment in 4 inch high-heeled ladies shoes.
I'll ignore the fact that you never leave any gratuity, yet brag about what you paid for your pedicure, Coach purse or dye job.
I won't say a word to your kids that the reason you can't send them to college is because you have a slight gambling problem.
I won't comment on your lack of hygiene.
I'll tolerate your racist ass the next time you refer to anyone of African American decent as one of them.
Your husband repulses you, but the money he makes is so good you can't leave.
Not a peep from me.
You are having your 3rd abortion -without telling your husband, again.
Silence.
I promise I won't say a word.
To anyone.
Out loud.

I'm very good at keeping secrets.
But my box of confessions is just about full for this year.