It all Began with a Simple Question....

People love to tell me things. They always have. People are very much motivated to express their word vomit all over me the way my newborn baby will eventually be spitting up his breakfast, lunch, and dinner on me. They don't even realize they are doing it, and if I were to make a big deal about the puke, they'd seem horrified that I couldn't just take it. So, I sit there, silently, and allow people (just like I will have to deal with the baby puke) vomit their words all over me. At least my son's spit-up with have some substance to it - it will either be vitamin rich breastmilk or iron fortified formula. What these other people spit up on me is not rich or fortified with anything and leaves me rather nauseous.

I work in an office at a college and people stop by all the time to chat me up. Lately it usually is sparked with a general interest in my enormous belly. Last week the college was on break. (Enough background information, I don't want to be guilty of what I'm calling people out on.)

A man, whom I assume is a professor here but I have never seen before, walks by my door. From my spy-window on my door I catch his reflection as he pauses, turns around, and whips his jolly, chubby, red face in to my room.

"How was your rest?"

At first I have no idea what he is talking about. Did he catch me napping earlier?

"Oh, the break!" I stupidly always come across as cheerful and interested in what people have to say. Let me preface by saying I had no idea the door I had just opened. "I didn't take a break, I will be on my maternity leave soon enough!"

"I can see that!" I'm still smiling at this point because he seems genuinely interested in my baby bump.

"Do you know what you're having?"

"Yes, a little boy. We are very excited!"

"Is that what you wanted?" (I hate when people ask this.)

"We were just happy to find out via the ultrasound he has ten fingers and toes!"

He smiles, thoughtfully. "After three tries I finally got what I wanted on the fourth!" He is full of glee.

"Oh, that's nice!" I'm still naively interactive with this stranger.

"Yup, a little girl. There is nothing like a little girl and her daddy. One time, in eighth grade, she was going to a semi formal and asked me to buy her some shoes. We went to Macy's and after forty-five minutes she selected a pair and then said she'd need a dress," (shouldn't the dress come before the shoes?). "Three hundred dollars later she had everything she needed!"

"Well, you are a very nice daddy. She sounds lucky!"

This, my friends, turned into an experience I have never, ever in my entire life experienced. Not even as a hairdresser, whose clients tell everything to. What follows is a brief recap of everything this man told me in a matter of thirty-seven minutes. I have never been puked on so much by a total stranger. I have tried to recount in order, but some may be out of order because there is just so much and halfway through all I could think about was blogging about this. Three-quarters of the way through I prayed that either he would get tired of standing in my doorway and pass out or that I would go into labor. I don't think either situation would have stopped him.


The Vomit
-The car he passed down to his daughter
-The college his daughter graduated from and what her degree was in, but not just that, the story of how her boyfriend tried to convince her to major in one area, but per her father's advice, she realized if they both had the same degree there could be conflicts of interests so she went on to pursue another degree.
-Where he live-in boyfriend is from and his favorite football team and what he wears during football games
-Where his daughter works, and also that her company pays for her tuition
-His wife's ancestry
-The death of his wife's mother, and the story of her older sister moving out, her father remarrying, and her younger sister calling the step-mom, "Ma"
-A trip he wanted to plan for his wife and daughter to go to the country where their ancestors are from and "Set them loose"
-The documented year his wife's family arrived in the states
-His own family ancestry, including the number of children each immigrant had and where they lived when they came to the States
-Work he has to do on his house, including: his fence and his hardwood floors, which were originally installed in 1959. This led to a discussion about his son, who has walnut hardwood floors, turns 40 this week, and will be celebrating his birthday with his two brothers and father at a local pub where they will eat peanuts
-He also needs to build a new garage to fit his wife's car and a place for his airplane. I tried to ignore the airplane comment because I was getting sick of listening and could tell it was bait. "I do have an airplane, you know." To which I responded, "I hope so if you're planning on making a garage for it!"
-His neighbor, who has never been married because after her mother died she spent her life taking care of her father, who allows him to keep his airplane in her garage for the time being.
-His dog, and the dog's name a breed. The dog's favorite place to sleep and favorite blanket, and the fact that his dog likes Dunkin Donuts coffee.
-The interior of his new car
-The amount of miles his motorcycle has on it, the color of the motorcycle, and the reason he rarely brings a passenger on it
-Why he calls his daughter a certain nickname and how she spells her name
-His wife and son used to play matchbox cars together and he could hear them when he worked in his hobby shop in his basement
-His dad's interest in electronics, his own first electronics kit
-His dad's premature death
-Inherited health problems from his dad
-Someone that he knows was once a prisoner of war and vowed to God that if he got out he would attend church everyday for his life and always did until now, because he is 92, so the priest comes to his house and gives him communion every day

....and THAT about sums it up. Finally, just when I thought I was going to fake passing out or going in to labor, another colleague came by to ask me a question. I seriously think he mistook my expression of shock over how long this was lasting and how much useless information he was telling me as one of genuine interest.

As I typed this, he walked past my office again and I cringed. What is up with people puking on me? Also worth noting is the fact that so many people are worried about putting stuff on the internet, yet have no problem telling a complete stranger all the intimate and personal details of their life.