Mar-ar-arried

Anonymous: Wasn’t this the weekend of your friend’s wedding?
Overshare: Yep!
Anonymous: How did it go?
Overshare: Oh, it was fantastic. CTF and I had such a great time. I just love weddings—I always see all these things that I want to incorporate into my own wedding someday. [big sigh]
Anonymous: Yeah.
Overshare: CTF and I decided that flowers are going to be our number one budget item. It’s just not a wedding without flowers.
Anonymous: You discussed your wedding?
Overshare: Yeah, while we were dancing. Right before my mom interrupted us.
Anonymous: Why did your mom interrupt you?
Overshare: Oh, she said we were being inappropriate or some such.

Oh dear Lord. This is one of those few times when I wish Overshare would actually have shared more. Oh how I wanted to ask exactly why her mom thought she was being inappropriate, but I also knew that those kinds of questions would only lead to more oversharing of the sort that makes me want to stab myself in the ear. For the sake of my eardrums, I let it slide.

Anonymous: Yeah… so I take it everything went well with his parole officer?
Overshare, obviously irritated: It’s his probation officer, not his parole officer.

That misstatement was obviously my fault. I can understand why she’d be so irritated.

Anonymous: Sorry.
Overshare: Yes, it all worked out. I got him a train ticket down and back on Sunday afternoon.
Anonymous: So you drove back this morning for work?
Overshare: Oh no. We drove down Sunday night.
Anonymous: Wait. He trained down here for a three-hour meeting, trained back up for a few hours and then drove home with you?
Overshare: Yeah. Why?
Anonymous: Seems complicated. Why didn’t he just stay down here—the wedding was already over, right?
Overshare: Yes, the wedding was over, but it’s the principle of the matter, Anonymous. He promised me the whole weekend. I deserved the whole weekend.