Over-share. We love to do it, don’t we? Especially after a nice afternoon spent watching New Zealand post a rugby century, and life is rosy, the place is humming and waitrons are getting prettier by the minute.
But nooo, you just have to share it. Slipping it into seemingly innocuous conversation, just at that point where the current topic is on it’s last legs and there’s no sport on TV to pick it up. Just there, when I’m looking around for the barman, and I’m especially vulnerable. That’s when you take your chance, and pounce.
One thing we forget when we’re unloading all our shit on some unfortunate soul in the bar, is that the person hasn’t actually asked for it. They didn’t think “Oh, I’ll go down the pub and solve some poor soul’s problems today.” This isn’t Heroes, there’s no “save the drunkard save the world” here.
I have my own fucking problems, I don’t need yours to muddy the waters. Have another beer and call me tomorrow.
Cos on a Saturday night I really don’t give a shit.