So this weekend I am going on a blind date. In a nearby city. With someone who lives in another, entirely different, city. But that's a story for another day.



The story for today is that I told Silent But Deadly Boy (SBDB) the other day, casually, that I was going away this weekend to aforementioned city. He did not blink an eye, since people from my fair city often travel to aforementioned fair city for fun and relaxation. Nor did he ask, right away, what I was going to do there. Fine. No information given.



Being a woman of conscience, however, I debated how much to tell SBDB, should he question me further. (SBDB, by the way, has reverted to his warm, non-standoffish self because I'm being low-maintenance and he's still salivating over that trump card I played a couple weeks ago .)



Last night, I started to think I might skate by without him ever asking, what exactly, I'd be doing on my trip. An unspoken part of our agreement is that we don't pry into each other's social lives. If the other person has something important to tell us, they'll tell us (we figure). Another part of our agreement is that we can go on dates without telling each other.



But still. If he asked what I was going to do on my trip, I was going to tell him. "Going on a date." Just like that. Given the situation, it seemed like the right thing to do. And all during dinner last night, I waited for him to ask. I was prepared (sort of) to say it. But he didn't ask.



Until later, that is. As we were lying around all relaxed, he said, making idle conversaion, "So, what's goin' on down in (blank city)?"



If I had been strapped to a lie detector right then, I would have been immediately handcuffed and carted off to prison. My heart rate accelerated to 200 beats a minute as I ever-so-calmly said, "Oh, just meeting a friend."



"Oh yeah, which friend?" I thought he might ask.



"Oh yeah, I have a friend down there too," he said instead. Conversation over.



I moved a little farther away from him so he couldn't feel how hard my heart was beating.



Now, technically, I haven't done anything wrong. So why do I feel guilty?