Make me bad..

The past few weeks have been nothing short of a typical 'rollercoaster ride' as it were. I used to believe, that if I had nothing to hide, nothing could hurt me, haunt me. Come back and bite me in the ass. Don't get me wrong, if I needed to cover my tracks about something, I could, no doublt about it.
Bu in the wake of the last few weeks, I've...found out about a hidden 'friend' he met. Found and erased pictures of said 'friend'. Stole her number and went after her like some crazed bloodhound. Fear, my wheelman, anger, my passenger, steadily badgering the driver to go ...faster...don't stop...run the lights, swerve past the cars, screw the damn pedestrians. JUST. GO.
I was met with some unnerving truths, and then some.

I'd gone from having nothing to hide, to hiding it all.
Kept my cellphone on lock down (which I need to do for the new one) and I rarely leave my web pages up. Why?
The truth?
I was writing, bit by bit today as my daughter napped. So amidst a few other tabs, the paragraph lay. I had a few others up. I had gotten up to go put her on the bed to sleep and when I returned, my stomach was in my throat for all of 3 seconds. 3 slow, painfully gnawing seconds. He was sitting in my chair. At my desk. Reading. I maintained my cool. Walked around and...low and behold. It was the webpage of the news I'd left up.
I stepped across to make as if I was cleaning up toys, and hoped for the love of all things shiny and new, and perhaps squeaky, that he'd take no notice to the other pages above.
I'll ever so often still throw out to him that he can look in my phone, but I know he won't.

Before I got my new phone I had pictures saved on there that he wasn't supposed to know I had. I hadn't erased them yet because I hadn't emailed them to myself. And he begged...and I said no.

After I replaced it, I wanted to see if I could get the some odd 1200 pictures off the memory card onto the new phone ...
I have on occasion taken semi and nude photos of myself, just not my face, to send to him when he's gone out of state.
I actually sent him some while he was in San Fransisco. Drunk off his ass, no less.
In forgetting that I'd already erased the 'evidence' (the hidden pictures he had on his phone) ..I spazzed a bit when he wanted to see the other pictures I had. I didn't know what I had or hadn't erased by then. Too much was happening and I was lost in the spiral of it all. I don't know what he thought. Other than the obvious. I had something to hide. The look he gave me as I pried the memory card out his hand was almost priceless.
I loved it and hated it in the same breath.
But I'm entitled to these secrets. You have yours.
I hate the fact that I need to have secrets, but you make me bad.