"I had decided that I would go to my grave never telling anyone what I had done."

"Recently, a friend became pregnant after a one-night stand. Everyone assumes that was an accident, but she confided in me that she had been seeking out sex with the purpose of getting pregnant. I was so relieved to meet someone else who planned an 'accidental' pregnancy that it made me wonder if I should open up about my secret."

From a letter to the advice columnist Prudie. I haven't yet read Prudie's answer. I just want to say that this woman imagines that she's found her counterpart in this other woman, but she hasn't. The letter-writer deceived a man with whom she had a serious relationship, letting him think she was still on contraceptive pills, and she's clung to her secret for many years, including from the man she married. She's kept the old boyfriend and the husband in the dark even as she's involved both of them in the upbringing of the child. That's years of hardcore deceit. This other lady is sleeping around with men she doesn't seem to care much about. And who knows what she told them about birth control? And she was apparently ready to blab about it as soon as the pregnancy happened. She's out and proud. It's way too late to emulate her. She's nothing like you.

Now I've read Prudie's answer. Excerpt: "There’s nothing to be gained by telling your husband and making him uneasy about your essential honesty." Essential honesty? The letter-writer's only indication of honesty (in everything but the central lie of her life) was "I'm mentally stable, and I have a pretty unremarkable suburban life." As if unremarkable suburbanites are honest.