Ever have the feeling that people are sharing a little too much information with you?

*looks over past few entries in journal*

*coughs*

Ok, so maybe I’ve been guilty of this too.

But…

I’m wondering if I have some kind of sign plastered to my forehead

“Mother Confessor in residence”

Do I really need to know that you haven’t been washed in 4 days?

Or that the last sexual experience you had was with a pot noodle?

Or that you haven’t shaved your pubic hair in over a month and you can’t find the garden strimmer?

Or that your haemorrhoids are acting up again?

Or even that you are currently in the throws of passion and having to type one handed?

Do I need to know these things?

No!

Do I want to know them?

Strangely, again, No!

I’m glad people feel so relaxed with me, and feel they can discuss anything…

But maybe this is going a little too far?

I could even understand and accept it if it was part of the conversation…

But out of the blue with no warning and when the conversation is about something else entirely?

Eeeep!

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