The Difference Between Privacy and Secrecy

There is a difference between protecting a relationship from the world and protecting the world from knowing your relationship exists.

Someone asked me recently whether I thought it was strange that the person she had been dating for months hadn't told many people about her.

My first instinct was to say that some people are private.

Because they are.

Not everyone wants their relationship documented online. Not everyone introduces someone to their family immediately. Some people protect the things that matter to them by keeping them away from everyone else's opinions.

I actually understand that.

But then she told me more.

His friends didn't know.

She had never been invited anywhere with the people in his life. They mostly saw each other at her apartment or his. If someone called while they were together, he never mentioned that she was there.

And suddenly we weren't talking about privacy anymore.

We were talking about secrecy.

I think the two get confused because they can look similar from the outside. Both can involve fewer photographs, fewer public declarations, and less access to the intimate parts of someone's relationship.

But they feel completely different when you're the person inside of them.

Privacy feels protected.

Secrecy feels hidden.

Privacy says, “This belongs to us.”

Secrecy says, “I don't want them to know about you.”

And maybe the most important difference is that privacy is something two people usually choose together. Secrecy is often something one person decides while the other person learns to tolerate it.

That doesn't mean everyone you're dating owes you an announcement.

Relationships develop at different speeds. Families are complicated. Friend groups can be messy, and there are completely legitimate reasons someone might move slowly when introducing a new person into their life.

Context matters.

But so does the way something makes you feel.

If you've been dating someone for months and you're still being asked to disappear whenever the rest of their life enters the room, you're allowed to ask why.

If they post everything except you, you're allowed to notice.

If you've never met a friend, a sibling, a coworker, or anyone who could confirm that you occupy a meaningful place in their life, you're allowed to wonder what that means.

Asking doesn't make you insecure.

Wanting clarity doesn't make you needy.

And wanting to be acknowledged doesn't mean you're demanding a relationship be performed for strangers.

Sometimes I think we're so afraid of being called difficult that we ignore the questions our instincts have been asking for months.

We tell ourselves to be cool.

Give it time.

Don't pressure them.

Don't ruin something good by asking what it actually is.

But something good should be able to survive a question.

That's something I wish more women believed.

You shouldn't have to investigate your own relationship.

You shouldn't need clues to determine whether someone is proud to be with you. You shouldn't have to analyze social media, overhear conversations, or decode introductions to figure out where you stand.

You can simply ask.

And then listen carefully to the answer.

Not only to what they say.

To what happens afterward.

Because someone can tell you you're important while continuing to treat you like a secret.

Words are very good at buying time.

Behavior tells you what they're buying it for.

I don't think everyone needs access to your relationship. Some of the healthiest things in our lives probably deserve a little protection from public opinion.

But there is a difference between keeping something sacred and pretending it isn't there.

You deserve to know which one you're living in.

Words of Wisdom

A private relationship doesn't require you to disappear. You don't need a public declaration to prove someone loves you, but you should never feel like a part of their life they need to hide. Ask the uncomfortable question, listen to the answer, and then pay even closer attention to what they do next.

Until next Tuesday.

— S.