No matter how old you get, you can’t shake off the high school years. All around us, there are the jocks, the class clowns, the fashionistas, the punks, the nerds and the gossips. Even as we leave our high school years behind, within our friends circle, it’s easy to identify the Monicas from the Chandlers, the Rachels from the Rosses. And whatever the stereotype, each one of those characters loves to gossip. Who was so-and-so dancing with? Did they go home together? They are together. They’re not together? They broke up. Or did they? The rumor mill is constantly churning and some, more than others, keep their minds occupied and tongues wagging with trivial details of other people’s lives. Don’t deny it. You may not always participate in it, but if there is talk, you don’t mind listening.
I don’t deny I’m one of those people. I like hearing stories, I like telling stories, and guess what, I write stories too, for a living! But for others to perceive that I am the only one who likes telling stories would be a complete fallacy. Since I started the blog, trust me, there has been enough fodder in my own life – let alone anyone else’s – to write a soap opera. But this is not what this blog is about. It is not a forum to air anyone’s dirty or clean laundry.
I’ve been told often enough that I like talking, or that I was the resident “gossip girl.” I was fine with those labels only because I knew the gossip was never malicious and it was mostly about me – my silly dates, my run-ins with the opposite sex. But to be labeled as The-Friend-Who-Cannot-be-Trusted-to-Keep-Mouth-Shut, I was amused and frankly, mystified. People who indulge in name-calling are gossiping about something else as I write this. People who choose to ask “so what’s going on?” instead of genuinely asking about my well-being, shouldn’t be fooling themselves. You are looking for a story and I know it. People who give me these labels should not be calling me their friend.