If you have to ask …

I’m one of those people who is always accumulating information. I’m a little more selective about what I share, since I’m a straightforward kind of gal and people like to repeat what they hear (often with their own embellishments).

I’m super-selective about with whom things get shared. Sure, I will test people. It’s usually soon enough that something gets back to me. And if you only entrust one or two people with something, well, that makes it easier to figure out who’s been flapping their yapper.

Now, that said, I rarely say anything I wouldn’t expect to come and bite me on my pudgy pork-roast ass. If I say it behind your back, believe me, I’d say it to your face. One would hope, however, that folks might use a little thing called discretion and let a girl say her piece without using it to make her life more-difficult.

But every once in a while, you let your guard down … or let it down again … and you wonder why on earth people who claim to be in your corner like to let others into your space. Uninvited. Not for sympathy or anything but maybe for them to one-up someone else with what they know or what might get them, if not ahead, then maybe a little notoriety.

I cherish my relationships. Even the fake ones. And I hate having to move yet another one into that category.

Worse still will be the texts, e-mails and other surreptitious mentions (or overt ones, depending on the source) who will want to know *who* and *what* inspired this post.

And the way I see it, if you have to ask, just … don’t. I already know. And so do you.

I’ve said it before but trust really is the trickiest currency of all.

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