Resident Wife

In Praise of Reticence

If I were truly apathetic, I don't think I'd be worried that I lack compassion. Uncaring? Not really. Self-absorbed? You bet, and I'm first to admit it. I am not sociable by nature, and am always dumbfounded when people are drawn to me. (That's dumbfounded, not pleasantly surprised; I don't want people to be drawn to me.) I'm not effusive, rarely initiate conversations, and hate small talk.

Why, then, am I such a perfect target for gasbags who confuse glazed eyes with empathy? I try to set boundaries. (Hint: when I say "I have to go now" and walk away, stop talking. Do not follow me. You're the reason I'm leaving.) I resent the intrusion, and its attendant assumptions. I'm a woman, so I must be a good listener, right? I must be willing to listen, because if I were in pain, or having an ice-cream-straight-from-the-carton, PMS sort of day, or suffering from the existential horrors, I'd be chattering away myself. Right?

Wrong. I've never understood the let-it-all-hang-out school of coping. The world would be a much better, much quieter place if people would stop to reflect before running their mouths. Just stop. Think. Write it down, blog about it, but for God's sake, don't ask me for advice unless you intend to follow it.

Never A Good Question...

Or, What I'm Thinking As I Stare in Slackjawed Disbelief. People close to me know better than to ask any of the following howlers, but acquaintances and even strangers sometimes feel entitled to intrude. Sadly, a polite, noncommittal response doesn't always shut them up. I'll (probably) never say such things aloud; nonetheless, I present "What Not to Ask, and Why: MaryClaire's Real Answers to Rude Questions":

Are you pregnant?

• No, I'm barfing because I'm hung over.
  
• Yes, but I'm barfing because I'm hung over.
  
• Yes, but it's too early to say anything yet, for reasons that are too painful to discuss.
  
• No, I'm FAT. Thanks for the reminder!
  
• No, I'm bloated from PMS. Fuck off.

So, when are you two going to have kids?

• When monkeys fly out of my ass.
  
• Nine months after my next bender and concomitant contraceptive mishap.
  
• We've been trying unsuccessfully, which is too painful to discuss.
  
• As soon as you're dead. And only if you leave us a lot of money.
  
• I have PMS; fuck off.

But don't you WANT kids?

• Nope. Hate the little buggers.
  
• Maybe. We'll make up our minds once you're dead.
  
• Yes, desperately; we've been trying unsuccessfully, which is too painful to discuss.
  
• Yes, but only if you give us a lot of money.
  
• I have PMS; fuck off.

Sarcasm aside, I suppose "Do you have kids?" can be a legitimate making-conversation sort of question. But when the answer to that question is no, don't pry; find another topic. No is a complete answer. And "Are you pregnant?" is never, ever, a good question.