2014/06/26

I don't care what you ate last night.

I don't care what you ate last night. I don't care what it was called or how it was presented or how much it cost. I want gossip. I want to hear about scandal, illegitimacy, failure, success, real lives.

I don't care what wine you drank last night. I don't care about its colour or taste, I was not there, I did not taste that wine, and nothing you say can describe it. I want to drink it, not hear descriptions of it.

I don't give a flying expletive-deleted what the colour of the sand was on your holidays. Or the quality of the hotel. Or the route you took to get there. I want to know how you make your money, what your work you do, if you enjoy it, if you have any plans or ambitions.

And sure as hell I don't want to hear your opinions on football teams, or hear what you dreamt last night. When someone says "I had a really strange dream last night..." I feel like a caged animal. 

I'll smile politely, and maybe, to my shame, join in. But we'll all be dust soon, let's at least talk about interesting things.

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