I think I’m an oversharer. This blog, for one thing is probably sharing more than I usually would so there’s a good example right there. I think there are different types of oversharers though, and I’m certainly not in the worst category. I tell my friends what is going on in my life, I’m rubbish at keeping things secret (yeah sorry, I’ve definitely told at least one person that thing you told me was a secret! Sorry!) I share anything from the mundane to the darn right gross. Oh and I have a tendency to talk really loud. Even when I think I’m whispering. But I know my audience. Mostly. For example, there are only certain people I can share my toilet habits with, and they love to share theirs right back.
My other half hates my potty mouth. I swear ALOT. So does he. But I think sometimes, when he’s glancing over at the girl he loves, he doesn’t want to see her calling the driver in front a **** because he’s driving too slow. He also does not appreciate poo-mour. For those that don’t know, it is ‘poo related humour’. I have an all male office I once worked in to thank for that. Poop is funny. My other half does find poop funny. Just not when I’m talking about it apparently. Kind of ruins the magic I guess.
Facebook is a wonderful thing. It can also be the worst thing in the world. Everyone has that one friend that posts ‘Just had the worst news. My life is over’. And then when someone comments, ‘Oh what’s wrong?’ Apparently now they don’t want to talk about it….WTF?! Why the hell leave a fucking leading status, begging for someone to ask you what’s wrong and then not tell them?! It’s pretty fucking annoying.
Then there are the oversharers that post really awkward arguments with their other half’s, or post really cryptic statuses and then remove them. As much as you really don’t give a shit, now it’s bugging you as to why Bob’s in big fucking trouble. What did Bob do? Did he run over the neighbours cat? Did he sleep with your mother? Or did he buy the wrong sort of gluten free bread again….honestly Bob….when will you fucking learn?!!
I’m pretty sure there are people on my friend’s list, that when a status comes up from me they think, ‘There she goes again, no one gives a shit about your ducks and how many eggs they’ve plopped out!’. If that is the case, fine. But I won’t apologise for it. When you signed up to be my facebook friend, then you knew that amongst the occasional funny meme I stole from someone else, there will be some mundane shit in there. And like you, I appreciate the cute dog pictures, I really do. But I don’t care that you had chinese for dinner and that you’re about to watch Love Actually for the one hundredth time. But I scroll past your dull shit and remember the funny video of the penguin slapping the other penguin over that you posted. (That is a good one). But I wish people would be more honest. It’s easy to ignore, but it would be better if you just told me to shut the fuck up. *Cue lots of my hilarious friends posting STFU on my wall* If you don’t like what I post, you can block me, unfollow me, remove me or use whatever the hell else method of ignoring people’s boring shit is nowadays. I often feel the need to tell people to shut the fuck up. On a daily basis. My restraint is in fact, saintly. You’re welcome.
But then there is a whole different level of oversharing. I won’t scar you by posting the picture, but if you feel the need to click on the below link there is actually a photo online that someone posted, of themselves on social media, physically giving birth to a child. Like the kid is half in, half out of her faloola. Now I know having a child is an amazing experience, but child birth is not. I have spoken to enough of you to know that it’s mainly horrific. And the only bit that’s magical is the bit where they give you all the drugs and you’re so high that when you see the small person, you forget you just pushed something the size of a melon out of what was once, your delicate flower. That, in my opinion is the ultimate overshare. That kid will now grow up, always being referred to as that kid. Other kids in the playground will shout ‘I’ve seen your mum’s vagina!’. And they’ll be right. The whole world did. Thanks mum. You gave me the greatest gift ever. Humiliation. Cheers.
My favourite type of oversharing though, is the stuff you do when you’re drunk. When the sweet alcoholic nectar has infused with the part of your brain that controls shame, and throws open that door wide. When you tell your boss exactly what you think of them. When you let slip that you have a massive crush on the guy you pass in the lift everyday, to the person who sits next to him. When you share your most embarrassing sex story to the office gossip. Or you think it’s funny to pull your top down exposing your boobs to the entire kebab house. We’ve all been there. Some more than others.
The moral of the story is, know your audience. Oversharing is fine, if you’re doing it to the right people. The ones who find it funny. Not the ones who submit a complaint that explaining tea-bagging to your friend, loud enough that the entire office can hear, is inappropriate work place conversation. #whatever