Everyone feels the need to vent at some point. Most people call a friend, wife, husband, parent, aunt, uncle, shrink, what have you, because they want to talk to someone who knows them and will (hopefully) be sympathetic. Then there are the people who will do their soul-baring to every- and anyone.
Real life example: I was outside at work, minding my business, smoking my cigarette. A co-worker came out and wandered my way. I'm polite; I said hello, how ya doin'. Next thing I know, I'm getting an in-depth synopsis of her marital woes.
"My husband, who I'm divorcing, is calling my landlord and my landlord is telling my ex all this shit about how my rent was late twice and my water was going to get cut off and I'm fighting for custody and my ex is a maniac; he hit me, broke bones, I had to get stitches and that fuck is going to be raising my kids because his family has money and look like fucking Ozzy and Harriet and I don't have any family. Is that fair? I give up, I just don't know what to do. I'm done."
Whew. I feel for this woman, I really do. Divorce is bad enough without having to deal with custody battles and sneaky exes and rotten landlords, but why did she think that I was the person to tell all that to? Was she desperate for a sympathetic ear? Was the need to vent so overwhelming that it didn't matter who was the recipient? Would she have ranted to the Fed-Ex drop box had she been alone? Maybe I just have that kind of face. A face that says, "I want you to share with me. I want you to spew your pain and frustration and hate ALL OVER ME. I will empathize with you. Yes, shhhh, I know. I'm here now. Therethere."
No comments:
Post a Comment