Any time one starts by saying “it’s not what it looks like”, they have made bad choices.
I have made some mildly bad choices. It looks worse than it is. And now it has blown up. I am dying to tell him. To be honest and have an honest conversation about it. But I can’t because if he handles it wrong, it will be too painful for me. I want to be honest, but within the honesty, I need him to react strongly, to care, to show passionate anger, and I do not know that he can or will. In fact, I sense that he would not. So here I am, crying quietly over how one tiny little part of my life has blown up and is stupid and lame. And when he comes home, I will smile.
Some day, if I can trust him to react in a way that won’t make me lose respect for him, maybe I will tell him. But then too much time will have passed, and it will be an issue of why I didn’t tell him sooner. Not sure.