Have you ever been talking to someone and right in the middle of your story you realize that you are rambling? And that you are boring, deadeningly boring? And then you wonder why you even launched into this somewhat overly intimate story? And you can see your victim’s eyes darting about in the classic signal commonly known as I’m trapped by this lunatic who won’t stop over-disclosing to me?
But you can’t stop because you’re in the middle of a ten-part story and why in the world did you start and so you rush to the end of the story and then you decide you will never again venture into public where you might bore people with your ridiculous stories about things that happened to you twenty years ago?
And so you renew your commitment to being a hermit? Only you call it Enjoying Solitude so no one will think you truly are missing a screw? Even though you are missing about seven screws, but that’s another long story which you will avoid telling? Because there are good reasons why our head rattles loose from time to time but honestly, none worth voicing aloud? Especially to fresh-faced twenty-something members of the human race who have no time for 45-year old women who are starved for human interaction?
No?
Well, maybe that’s just me.
Forget I mentioned it.
Actual Unretouched Photo 
Rambling – ten-part story – boring – loose screws – – – oh my; this is MY story. I could not have said it so cleverly, but I have noticed the darting eyes as I realized (too late) that no one else wants to know such tidbits that I consider SO interesting that I must share!
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It’s part of the human condition. I guess it’s just payback time for all the times I’ve been caught as the eye-darter wishing I could be released, too, haha! Happens to us all, I do believe, but it’s a freaky feeling when we DO realize someone’s doing it to us, isn’t it?
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Oh hell yes.
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Yes, only I don’t tell people my life story. I used to but after years of seeing people act overly concerned (“oh how horrible it must have been”) to complete disinterest, I realized that I either bore people or humanity has lost its ability to be real. (And seriously, I am not THAT boring – especially since I have started taking vitamins and my depression is lifting!)
Either way, the last few years I have learned to be more quiet about what my personal life is about. Perhaps that is why people share so much on blogs. In real life people simply don’t care. AT least on blogs you get a sense that someone just might care. I have learned that those people who really should care, simply don’t because they are selfish bastards.
Ouida Gabriel
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Okay.
This is EXACTLY why I don’t even try anymore.
I forget that not everyone wants me to recount to them who has and who has not pooped today.
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Yes, it’s happened to me. And then there’s the moment when I realize I’m as bored with my story as they are and we’re both stuck.
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Yes. I’ve really felt like this lately.
Steph
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Yes. Then I trail off and no one notices and I’m offended and glad at the same time!
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Um…yeah. All the time. Most recent occurrence: Sunday evening after church. And about to happen again RIGHT NOW except I am going to stop typing.
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Yes yes yes! This is why I usually only talk to people on the Internet. Or on the phone where they can pretend they suddenly have to go b/c their kid threw up or something. Or I can.
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Oh, yes, just last night. Someone made the mistake of asking me how our race went, and I compounded the mistake by answering. Halfway through I saw their eyes glazing over, and I still couldn’t stop myself from finishing the story in the same manner in which I’d started.
Sigh.
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I talk to strangers. All.the.time.
We were at the mall yesterday, and I saw two women about to eat lunch. It appeared that they bowed their heads, with their eyes closed, and prayed before they started eating. Sooooo, I walked up to them when we were leaving and said, “It was nice to see you praying,” and kept on walking. My kids were walking behind me and said that one woman looked at the other like “Whaaaaaaaa?????” Yeah, I love humiliating myself and my children.
I asked my daughter later, “Do you think people think I’m weird?” She replied, “Yeah, maybe a little.”
It must be middle age. I wish I could say it was vodka.
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my husband coined a phrase that I love. It was one of those talk to the person beside you because you’re going to have to introduce them to the room in a second. He introduced his partner by saying, “He made the fatal mistake of being a good listener, and I never did reach the end of my story…”
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Oh yes.
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I have returned to your blog after a hiatus for a reason. You are channeling me and because I’m too chicken to say these things out loud, you say them for me. Gee, thanks!
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