There were times over the years when one or two times I was able to use the minimum amount of filter, speaking in generalities, alluding to things that cannot be said safely. It would be foolish to say explicitly some things, and very dangerous.

That’s an interesting distinction. Without getting into anything you feel shouldn’t be shared, can I ask what you mean by “dangerous” in this context? Is the concern more about how the other person might react, the consequences of having said it aloud, the possibility that it could be shared with others, or something else?

Illegality, being outed as such and thus a ruined public identity and a criminal record.

I understand. And I don’t think you need to say anything more specific about what those things are. I certainly wasn’t asking you to disclose something that could put you or anyone else at risk.

Your answer does make me reconsider the premise of my original question. Maybe “someone you can tell absolutely anything to” sets an almost impossible standard. There may always be parts of ourselves that we keep private, whether because of consequences, shame, fear of judgment, concern for someone else, or simply because we believe some things are ours alone to carry.

So perhaps the more interesting question is not whether someone gets the completely unedited version of us, but how much editing can exist before we stop feeling genuinely known by that person.

It sounds like you have occasionally gotten quite close to that boundary with someone, even while knowing there were places you couldn't go. Did those relationships still leave you feeling known, or did the things you could not say always create some distance?

I'm not in the same situation as FifthLimbTim, but I couldn't tell someone "absolutely anything". That's the kind of relationship or discussion girls/women have (I'm not dissing them). As men, we're raised to keep our game close to our vest and to avoid exposing our weaknesses. Although it's unhealthy, we still become "impregnated" with those teachings, even if we try to free ourselves from these toxic doctrines. In the end, most of us struggle to open up, even though (truth be told) it would help us a lot if we did.

I think you’re right that many of us learned pretty early to keep things close to the vest. Even when we know that isn’t always good for us, it can be surprisingly hard to shake.

I’m certainly more open now than I was when I was younger, but could I tell someone absolutely anything? If I’m being honest, I’d like to have a friendship or relationship where that barrier really doesn’t exist. Whether that’s actually possible, I’m not sure.

And that's ok. I’m starting to think there’s a real difference between keeping something private because we choose to and keeping it private because we’re afraid of what might happen if we actually said it out loud.

My husband and I keep reminding each other that telepathy doesn't work. We have to tell each other what we think, what we'd like, what we want (or don't!), otherwise the other has no way to know!

Still, I don't feel like telling him everything. Not because I'm cheating him, but because saying everything could be hurtful or lead him to believe I have expectations when I don't. For instance, I don't think that telling him that I masturbate(d) would be helpful.

Still, we both have a tendency to say less than more about our feelings, and that isn't helpful. We both see that telling each other how we feel brings us closer rather than pushing us apart.

My spouse is also my best friend. I can openly discuss most things with her, but not everything. I think the difference in gender makes it more difficult to disclose everything without risking misinterpretation.

I can understand that. Misinterpretation may be one of the biggest reasons we hold things back, especially with someone whose perspective or experiences differ from our own. Something can be completely innocent in our own head, but once we say it out loud, we lose some control over how it’s understood.

I suppose the real question is whether we trust the other person enough to say, “That’s not what I meant,” and trust that they’ll actually hear us.

Misunderstanding can lead to a range of emotions, fear among them. Fear is a difficult emotion to navigate around. “That’s not what I meant,” will often work, but even someone who normally tries to hear our perspective may struggle to move beyond their own fear.

That’s a good point. Fear changes the equation because once it enters the conversation, we’re no longer necessarily responding to what the other person actually said. We may be responding to what we’re afraid they meant.

And I suppose that’s where trust gets tested a little more deeply. It’s relatively easy to trust someone when we understand each other. Being willing to stay in the conversation long enough to get through a misunderstanding, especially when it touches a fear or insecurity, may be a much better measure of how safe a relationship really feels.