We have all had to deal with over sharers. Some love to share all the graphic details of their latest stomach bug. This is actually quite helpful if it is done over lunch, as you are sure not to be hungry for a while.
Others will give you all the details of their latest surgical operation. You will have a full explanation of their treatment, how the procedure went, how long it took them to recover, their state of mind, who visited at the hospital, and so on, and so forth. The thing is, I wouldn't share such details with my close family, and I really don't know what they are trying to achieve by sharing everything with everyone. I have even seen acquaintances sending long weekly emails detailing what had happened to them, with gruesome details. Lovely. Sometimes being kept in the loop is not that great.
That said, being French seems to induce a different type of over sharing. For some reason, people love to share their sex and relationship issues with me. It is quite funny really. I remember having a morning coffee with colleagues and one of them, out of the blue, told me that she was having an affair with a married man. She was asking for my advice. I didn't know what to say. I muttered that, as long as it wasn't with my husband, well, I didn't care. I brushed it off. Frankly, I didn't want to talk about it. She praised my non-judgemental attitude and I felt like running a mile away.
A few weeks later, a male colleague of mine, who just had had a baby, complained that he didn't have any time to read with his wife in the evening, let alone do anything else. I almost choked on my chocolate croissant, muttered 'give it some time'. I made my excuses and left. What is going on?
Why do people feel the urge to share such things with me? I wouldn't tell them to my best friend. But the worst was yet to come. I bumped into a younger colleague of mine in a beauty salon. She explained to me in a very loud voice that she was going to have a Brazilian wax because her boyfriend liked it. Too much information. I politely nodded. Encouraged, she asked me what type of wax I was going to have. I panicked for a second and explained, in a low voice, that I liked the way the lady was doing the eyebrows shaping. It seemed to curb her enthusiasm. I felt very embarrassed.
So here it is: I am not a relationship expert and I don't want to be one. I am, in fact, quite shy. I like being discreet. Please, don’t tell me everything!