KEY POINTS:
Do you ever find yourself in a situation where you're telling a story and as you speak you realise how ridiculous you sound?
Where you build something up in your head and then, as you recount it, you come to see just how insignificant it really is.
I have
just had one of those experiences.
A friend and I headed out for coffee as I was having a drama. Not a major one, but enough for John to be concerned.
"Right," he said authoritatively. "Talk me through it."
[Brief backgrounder - the drama involved a boy. A boy whose behaviour is somewhat erratic and who keeps sending me mixed messages.]
I set about explaining said boy's antics and why they were troubling me so much.
As each word left my mouth, I realised how pathetic I sounded . . .
So it came as no surprise when I finished the tale and was met with a look of blank indifference.
"Um, is that it?" asked John.
"Yes," I replied, embarrassment creeping across my face.
'Well, it doesn't sound that erratic. In fact, I'm not sure what the problem is."
Indeed, neither do I anymore. Bugger.
It was right about then that I recalled something the out-of-work actor said recently.
"Women and parents are the same. You need to keep them occupied at all times so they don't start thinking too much and meddling in your affairs.
"Women overthink and over-analyse everything."
Ignoring the misogynistic overtones, the man's got a point.
How many times have you sat with your girlfriends, discussing in-depth the possible meanings and motivations behind a simple text message or phone call?
What makes it worse is that we know we do it. We know it's stupid and irrational. And yet, we can't seem to stop ourselves.
In fact, often it's only when a male points out how ridiculous we're being that we are snapped back to reality and out of the black hole of overthought despair.
So, the solution? From now on, I will sound out my problems to the nearest male before I start obsessing over them, thus limiting the amount of time I waste stressing over the minutiae of life.
God help those sitting near me . . .