The Art of Oversharing

An open letter to all casual acquaintances, temporary co-workers and complete strangers: I do not care to hear about your history of substance abuse, your blossoming teenage daughter, your series of devastating miscarriages, your father's death from cancer or your roster of daily medications along with their undesirable side effects. As a general rule, unless we've reached a level of familiarity where I would willingly share your straw over a rootbeer float, I just don't give a shit.

I'm not callous. I am a highly emotional person, actually. I've cried during episodes of Celebrity Fit Club. I figure that qualifies me as caring, yes? So it's not that I'm without a heart. I'm just fed up with the brazen and widespread misuse of oversharing.

Oversharing. The phenomenon with the distinction of earning it's own acronym, the famously overused "T.M.I." for Too Much Information. T.M.I. was spawned as a response to the raunchy, the nasty, the freaky, the weird - "omg tmi!!!" - a proper response to all things you must feign disapproval about in order to not be judged. But you secretly don't mind. It at the very least makes for good gossip ("Hey. OMG did you hear about how Jean De Baptiste got really wasted and hooked up with his sister-in-law. Awwwwkward.") As an added bonus, you as the relayer of such information look fabulously normal in comparison, plus you will be fleetingly popular with your listeners, so use this to your advantage.

The problem occurs when people incorrectly use T.M.I. There are rules of operation. Not meant for use with information that will tend to depress or bore. What am I supposed to do with the story about your osteoperosis? Nobody else wants to hear that. Neither did I. It wasn't salacious or shocking or even a hint of revolting. It was a buzz kill. And now my internalized value system is telling me I should feel sorry for you. Only we just met. It's just not right. Plus there is no proper, easy response. After hearing the lady next to you on the bus has osteoperosis, you can't exclaim "ahhhh! T.M.I.!" That would only make you an asshole.

The rules to T.M.I.-ing are relatively simple - so easy, even a caveman could do it. Please adhere to the following rules: #1) Transmitting the information cannot last more than 90 seconds; #2) It cannot be about a disease or medical condition unless it is elaphantitis or something caught between the sheets and treated by a round of antibiotics; #3) Do not share stories if they involve loved ones whom you respect. These stories invariably only interest and amuse you. #4) Death is never a sound topic for casual oversharing. Save this for bartender, at least he's paid for listening. #5) A good general rule of thumb. Pretend whatever you're about to say involves Nick Lachey. Would it make perezhilton.com? If so, you're golden. Nick Lachey wakes up naked in the bushes v. Nick Lachey has a bone spur. Make sense?

That's just my $0.02.