Talking crap is highly beneficial. Fact.
JP and his mates always provide such interesting insights into the male psyche. The inability of men to concentrate on more than one thing at once usually allows me to be the fly on the wall, as they don’t even notice I am in the same room once their chins get wagging.
After many years of cohabitation, I have been privy to bountiful ‘private conversations’ and have mastered the art of transforming into cellophane, so that my presence generally remains unnoticed. When blokes get together and mull over the important stuff, everyone has a good time, especially me; is Heidi Klum a 9 or a 10? Who has the highest Bejewelled score? Is a maxi skirt as hot as a maxi dress? Who is the world’s greatest rugby centre? Chocolate protein shake or Vanilla? At the gym, if you have done biceps on Monday and triceps on Tuesday, do you do quads on Wednesday or keep working on the ‘guns’? And one of my personal favourite’s; If you had a choice of ANY car to drive from Sydney to Byron (in good weather of course) what would it be? The list of interesting and thought-provoking topics is endless.
Whilst cooking dinner the other evening, I was forced to endure yet another intimate gas bagging session, where I found myself rolling my eyes and inwardly declaring their conversation banal. Suddenly I felt a pang of guilt. Am I judging them? Or worse still, am I being a HYPOCRITE? What if I talk as much crap as these blokes?
I began trying to recall the last conversation I had with one of my girlfriends. What did we talk about? Current affairs? Nope. The state of the Australian government and Gillard’s views on Muslims and the practice of Sharia Law? No. The start of Net-a-Porter’s online sale and the potential of a J-Crew concession at a local department store? Closer. How much I dislike birds in general, more specifically pet birds? Warmer. Plans for Friday night? The most recent line that my girlfriend’s sleazebag personal trainer crossed? The perils of humidity with regards to hair and makeup? How the 50 Shades trilogy is shrouding my life? Tick, tick, tick and tick!
I immediately find myself justifying these subjects; they are all extremely valid and timely topics of conversation. They may not be acutely intellectual and may not be working towards a cure for cancer, but it helps me to keep in contact with my friends, helps me to feel closer to them, helps me get to know them, understand them and vice versa.
At the end of a busy work day, the last thing I feel like doing is heading home to have an intense conversation about the bikie wars in Sydney. The furthest thing from my mind is the state of the world’s economy and my taste for information concerning the some huge conglomerate’s profit cuts for the second time in three months is nil, nada, naught, zilch, ZERO!
My interests lie in red carpet fashion, what the Kardashian’s ate for lunch and could someone please tell me…HOW IS JOAN RIVERS STILL ON TV? I want to know what my mates are doing, how they are doing, who they are doing, their thoughts on high waisted jeans, the new MAC cosmetics range…does Moroccan Oil REALLY work?
I acknowledge that my last few tête-à-têtes would most likely be considered a touch superfluous or tragic, however I need them. Without gossip and drivel the world would be pretty humdrum. The daily grind would be a little bit more mincing and instead of going for a coffee and a chat, we would be putting our hands up for jury duty.
Mindless chit-chat is what makes the world go round; it sparks relationships and shapes friendships. Talking garbage with friends and strangers is liberating, therapeutic and bonding and should never be poo-pooed.
I apologise to my better half and his mates. I have judged you and your gibberish for far too long. I have stood by shaking my head, rolling my eyes and tsk tsk-ing your heart-to-hearts, meanwhile I’m texting my best mate for her opinion on Bobbie Brown versus NARS. I am a hypocrite and I apologise.
Next time you are talking to your girlfriend in the 100 woman deep queue at Zara, trying to justify the purple suede pumps in your hand; “because they will totally be a staple” don’t feel intimidated by the self-righteous turd in front of you. When she turns around to gives a look that says; “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me, you guys are PATHETIC” whilst rolling her eyes…tell her to shut it, or better yet, include her…she could just be jealous.