Peevish

Saturday, October 01, 2005

It's got to be the face.

I seem to have one of those faces that make people want to tell me things. Things I'm really not that interested in, either. A few examples of these things are:
  • The nasty effects of IBS (Irritable Bowel Syndrome) after eating salad. Really. By a former professor at lunch. Thanks, truly.
  • That my conversation partner is gay, and that I'm the first person they've ever told. Thanks again. That's great. So far, my tally is up to three times on this one. I've no problem with homosexuality, but I do struggle for an appropriate response. What do I say? You go, girlfriend?
  • That they are not gay, but feels that they are a woman trapped in a man's body, and is a closet transvestite saving up for "the chop." This lovely(wo)man told me because s/he admired my style and wanted some fashion & makeup tips. We actually went clothes shopping after this, with him/her in full drag. S/he was not pretty.
  • That they have discovered that his/her partner is having an affair. Just today, again, on this one. Hire a lawyer. Leave me out of it.
  • That they have had an abortion (or two, or five). Did I ask? No.
  • That they have been trying to get pregnant for eons, but their husband's sperm just aren't that mobile. Spare me!
Fascinating, eh? I certainly don't encourage these sorts of confessions, and they are usually followed by the phrase "I don't know why I'm telling you this." It can't be my talkative manner, because I don't rattle on much in company. It can't be the general topic of conversation, either, as I don't usually expound on transvestism or infertility. It's got to be the face.

What's worse is that they aske me for advice. Like I have any idea what to tell a woman trapped in a man's body? Or recommend dietary modifications for an IBS sufferer? Or tell an infertile woman how to get pregnant? Although boxer shorts and a turkey baster do spring to mind...

Short of plastic surgery, I think I'm doomed to hear these unsettling confessions for the rest of my life. I should move to Europe, I think, where the natural reserve would be enough to keep people out of my oh-so-open face.

posted by Peevish McSnark at 9:49 PM

5 Comments:

  • Goddamn, that's harsh! I'm amazed by people that want to tell you stuff that should be left for a psychiatrist or a GI doctor. I'd probably have to throw up after the IBS one, and I'm still in shock from the sperm one.

    I never thought I'd ever say THAT...

    By Anonymous Anonymous, At 11:48 PM  

  • In those situations, it's always best to think, Now what would the Queen Mum do? (if she was still alive of course).

    By Blogger Sniffy, At 1:34 PM  

  • What is about your face that makes people want to open up? Kind? empathic?Interesting?Sympathetic?

    Colour of eyes is important too.

    By Blogger S.I.D., At 3:47 PM  

  • Think of it as a gift. You could make a fortune blackmailing people.

    By Blogger garfer, At 4:07 PM  

  • Wow. Gotta say, it's never a dull moment with you, dearie. Here I was feeling all stressed and tired and overwhelmed and then I get to read your blog and smile. It's a good thing-- almost a Martha Stewart good thing. ;)

    But I will spare you the story of my weekend. After all the confessions you've had, you'd find me incredibly boring. It's just work and pregnancy stuff. Not even an irritable bowel (for once)-- unless you count my darling hubby.

    By Anonymous Anonymous, At 10:34 PM  

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