While trying to rest and recuperate from some nasty flu-like virus I’ve contracted, I’ve caught up on a lot of reading. Someone from work donated several back issues of Glamour for my BART commute to and from work each day; I’ve now plowed through all of them. Interesting reading, Glamour is.
There’s one particular feature called “Glamour asks, men answer.” Each month, a question is posted to men (not sure where the sample comes from) and they answer. The answer is always accompanied by the name and age of the respondent, and often a photo as well.
September’s question was, “What secret from your past do you dread your girlfriend discovering?”
Let’s think about that for a moment. If I were a guy, and this question were posed to me, my first reaction would be not to answer. That’s kind of the whole point of a secret. Not to be disclosed. In addition, the guys pictured look like they would be the type to have Glamour-reading girlfriends, yet another reason not to answer. Unless this is a Jerry Springer-esque plot to confront a loved one with information here-to-now known to no one.
Some of the secrets seem rather tame – the “I met someone on the internet,” the “My childhood nickname was …” But others, well, I could imagine a girlfriend, seeing her boy in Glamour, then reading his secret, getting a little upset. More of the “I made out with my best friend’s girlfriend” variety. That’s just wrong. The “I had a threesome with a married couple I didn’t know.” Hmmm. Might pique her curiosity about what else has been going on. Or the “The number of women I’ve slept with – it’s so high.” If that discussion hadn’t come up before, it surely will now. Secret’s out, loverboy.