Whilst in “approved school”* aged 14, I entered the annual inter-house boxing contest. In the run-up to the fight, 2 of my designated opponents ran away from the home, and the 3rd threw in a sick note on the night, so I just climbed into the ring, bounced on the ropes a few times, did a fair impression of an “Ali shuffle”, then received my trophy. 
ps. And tbh, I bet I was more nervous than any of them, but I wasn’t going to show it!
More random trivia:
My mom was a speech writer for Walter Mondale during his vice-presidency. About three years ago, she moved to Panama, for no reason other than that she wanted to.
My brother is currently living in Dubai. He hates the consumerist culture there, but his high-paying job will pay off his extensive student loans.
My father spent a year-and-a-half in jail for growing marijuana. His “drug money” put me through college.
I hate to borrow money from people I know. Unfortunately, this doesn’t extend to corporations, as I’m currently trying to dig my way out of a mound of credit card debt I wracked up between 2004-2006.
My fiance and I have similar features, to the extent that we’re occasionally mistaken for brother and sister. We sometimes joke that we already know exactly what our kids will look like.
Nope, we were on the river in the valley. Can’t remember the name of the campsite. Either Oak Grove or Big Bend. The cops had been called out on a noise complaint, and had “smelled Cannibus”. That is why they were lurking around. My friend who lit up got a twelve hundered dollar fine, and had to fill out a workbook on proper community standards or something like that. I got cuffed and put in the back of a car for being a smartass.
Ron White put it best. “I have the right to remain silent, I just don’t have the ability.”
Up until this morning, I hadn’t been to the dentist for nearly ten years. (Good work though, no new cavities, just a cracked filling!)
I have dreams. Dark, horrific, disturbing dreams filled with such violence and terror that I never tell anyone, for fear that they reflect some kind of mental instability that will repel people.
I have more hobbies than I can count. I write, act, paint, play guitar, play violin, design websites, dabble with photoshop, do set design, make jewelery and knit. I suck at all of them. There might be more.
I hate my job. I work in the domestic violence arena and spend my time listening to harrowing stories and helping people get free/move on to a better life. I rarely have any success. People always remark that it must be so rewarding and how it must be a calling for me. It isn’t. I just don’t think I am the right kind of person. I feel burned out and I often cry when I get home. I want to be a teacher.
I do all my studying on the last minute. I do about a tenth of the recommended study time. Often I don’t even read the book I am writing about. I still get good grades but I know I don’t deserve it.
I want a baby and my husband does not. He has agreed. My biggest fear is that he might one day resent me and the child for this. But I want it too badly to not have children.
I too have this fantasy, the clandestine operation is the most important part. I occasionally vary it so that I become part of some sort of travelling show and live a life of decadence on the sinful outskirts of society.
I once cut someone’s head off with a katana in a dream. That one bothered me for about a week. I also had a dream where I was a man raping a young woman (and enjoying it).
Most recently, I dreamed I was walking through a field when a large hare came running right towards me. So I grabbed and summarily broke its neck, then took it to my shack to butcher. When I cut its chest open, its heart was still beating, so I methodically stabbed it several times in the heart until the beating stopped. As I was skinning it, it twitched again. By this time, I was frustrated that it still wasn’t dead, so I cut its head off.
Oh, and when I was young, about 9 years old, I dreamed that I was in charge of designing torture equipment for a king. I was really happy that I’d figured out how to use a set of monkey bars as a rack and was helping the king test it out. For years, I was convinced that this dream meant I was really pretty evil, and that only my pacifist upbringing had saved me from becoming a sadistic monster.
I shot a Coke machine in Reno just to watch it leak.
I’ve also had dreams where I’m fatally injuring a creature, often a cat and in real life I love cats. Those dreams are the worst! They stick in my mind for days.
When I was about 6 or 7, my Aunt gave me two of her pet rabbits, Mugsy and Fluffy Bunny. We had a cage built for them and they were kept about 100 yards behind our house in our shed. Every morning while it was still dark out I was expected to go out and feed them.
I was so frightened to make that walk out there in the pitch-darkness that when I got inside the shed, I would pour the food through the top of the cage rather than take the time to open it and put the food in the bowl. I just wanted to get the hell out of there!
After months of this, my mother eventually realized they weren’t getting fed and returned them to my Aunt. They were malnourished. I felt so, so bad. 
I still, to this day, have nightmares about neglecting pets. I have dreams where I’m responsible for several animals and can’t keep up with all their needs. I am too afraid to clean my fishtank and my fish die one by one. I am put in charge of a dozen cats and then someone finds out they are all scrawny and underfed. All these helpless animals crying out to me to take care of them. I always wake up flooded with relief – ‘‘Oh thank god. I don’t even have a fish.’’
Seriously, it’s been 20 years. It’s so odd the things that stick with us.
I also write porn, for fun and profit. But my family and friends know, so it’s not much of a secret to anyone expect people at work.
I used to lick electrical sockets when I was younger.
I’m a horrible gossip. I keep my mouth shut on the Big Secrets, but if it’s something small (he said, she said) or talking about someone I don’t like, I don’t. I’m ashamed of myself for it and for some reason people keep telling me those secrets anyway - never been caught. I know that eventually it’ll come out, yet I do it anyway.
I think my mom is the worst human being I’ve ever met in my life. She has less empathy than my toddler, is a drunk who doesn’t care that she has a problem or puts others in danger (when she takes trips, she calls her gin her “cup of courage”) and is so self centered and casually cruel that sometimes I can’t even look at her. When she gets sloppy and wants to hug me, sometimes I let her, but I shudder whenever she touches me. I keep the peace, but if I could, I’d never see her again.
I am happily married and in a polyamorous relationship, and I still daydream about cheating on my husband. Because lying about it is easier than all the Q&A about the person I would like to see on the side.
I still like to pretend that I would be in trouble if my fiance woke up and discovered that I was masturbating in bed next to him, because it’s more fun that way. The reality is that he doesn’t mind in the least.
Random fact: I had to go to the mall at lunch and on my way out, on a whim I went into Cold Stone Creamery and got a Milk & Cookies shake- something like “sweet” ice cream and Oreos. And now I feel like a beached whale. What do they put in the ice cream at that place- concentrated fat?
Ugh. I feel like crap.
I think mine would pretend he was still asleep so he didn’t disturb my private time. 
That’s what I do. Occasionally I’ll wake up from a very light sleep and think “why do I feel the bed shaking ever so slightly?”, and then it will dawn on me what’s going on a couple feet away. I keep my eyes closed and let her have her fun, and fall back to sleep.
Yeah, one time I woke up and I’m sure my wife was doing that, but I was facing away from her. Franlky, as The Weird One alludes to, it’s more fun that way, and you learn much more about how to please your partner sexually if you watch them masturbate, but as soon as I tried to “innocently” roll over, making her think I was doing that in my sleep but sitll hoping to catch a glimpse of it, she stopped.
I really got to start sleeping facing her (even though I find it harder to fall asleep that way).
Why are women so self-conscious about it?
My secrets are my own, but you may have two of my random facts:
I can read and write grade 2 Braille (I read it with my eyes, not my fingers).
I have stood at the North Pole. On two separate occasions.
I want to hear about both!
I can dance like Yosemite Sam and talk like Kermit the Frog. I rescue worms that find themselves in puddles, but also catch them, cut them up and feed them to my fish.
I like spanking porn and hope that one day I can experience it.
I was married to a gay man for 10 years. I’m 39, single and childless and I’m afraid I’m going to die alone.
This. With the exception of the 'Dope, (who are, all of you, leagues beyond me in smarty-ness) I usually am the smartest guy in the room because I am deathly afraid of people thinking I am a complete moron. And so I read whole encyclopedia sets and various science magazines and journals and just try to soak up as much general trivia as I can. Partly because I genuinely do like to learn as much as I can, but mostly I just want people to think that I’m smart.