I made the appropriate apologies and reconciliations and began to steer my life on a much straighter, much soberer path.

The Wanderer (as I dubbed him) and I took our lives in different directions too, putting a few thousand miles between our desires and our debaucheries. It was no affair to remember.

Then, two weeks ago, I ran into a male acquaintance who is a friend of The Wanderer. Everything seemed to be normal until said man had one too many beers, stood next to me smoking a cigarette, and in mid-conversation told me that he knew what had happened between The Wanderer and me.

Dumbstruck, “Pardon me” were the only words that I could get out. “What did you say?” I was truly hopeful that I had misheard him.

It took a while for me to cajole the rest of what he thought he knew out of him.

My night became sour from there, and I went home early (and alone) to contemplate appropriate next steps.

I tossed and I turned that night.

I am not the type of person who calls up an old fling to yell at him about x, y and z because after the game is played, all is fair in love and war. But at the same time, here was a man compromising my reputation and integrity over male camaraderie, over bragging rights.

Before anything had ever happened between The Wanderer and me, we pinky swore that what happened between us, stayed between us. We both had a lot at stake if our illicit behaviors were made public. In short, we vowed not to kiss and tell.

However, standing across from the male acquaintance, having my life reiterated to me by a drunken stranger, I couldn’t help but remember that during World War II, while the country was wrapped up in helping the war effort with rations and Victory Gardens, there was a homeland project to dissuade people from discussing what they knew about the war. Ship builders were told that it was dangerous to talk openly about the capacity or capabilities of the ships they were building because spies could be anywhere. Simply put, Loose Lips Sink Ships.

A man called The Wanderer – who has a girl in every port – should know from experience that talking openly about private matters, private affairs can only end in trouble. And if he isn’t concerned about his own well-being, he should at least have enough respect for the timeless art of the affair to use the appropriate discretion and keep things to a tęte-ŕ-tęte.

I wonder if some of this is cosmic karma: my wrongdoings coming back to bite me in the ass, balance out the world, and set the Earth back on its normal axis. Perhaps I do deserve what is coming to me for my actions.

But to avoid capsizing my boat, I am going to remember that loose lips sink ships.

• "A Single Serving" appears second and fourth Mondays every month, exclusively in Lumino Magazine. E-mail Melissa at m.koss@yahoo.com.

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