I love my friends.
I really do.
But I think that some of them...
OK, not some of them....
ONE OF THEM needs a lesson on boundaries.
CASE IN POINT: THE FOLLOWING IS A MESSAGE THAT WAS LEFT ON MY ANSWERING MACHINE BY MY FRIEND, LOU:
"Hi---Sally, Paul. This is Lou.
Just calling to say Hi. I'm on my way to the---have my prostate checked. So, uh, if you get a chance, give me a call. I'm going to be going in the office in about, about twenty-five of two. So, if you do call me, call me after that. You know---call me after two thirty or so. Alright? If you don't call me before then...Talk to you soon. Buh bye."
While I feel that I am a supportive individual and a good friend in most cases, I seriously need to draw the line at being the recipient of what I call TMI (too much information) Syndrome. Seriously.
I mean, we all have those moments in our lives when we have to deal with unpleasantries involving body parts that NO ONE else wants to hear about, right?
I mean, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, I'm a woman. I deal with this stuff all the time! Well...at least once a month (Yo, Aunt Flo! What's shakin'?). And when I go to the gyno! And when I get my hooters squished!
And, and, and! You get my drift, right?
But I don't take those opportunities to call my friends and say shit like, "Yeah. It's that time of the month. The vajayjay is out of commission. How are things with you?"
You know why?
Because I have boundaries.
So, Lou? While I am thrilled that preventative medicine in the form of your "annual hairy boy probe" is working fabulously for you and that your balls are A-OK (Hooray for Lou's sack, everybody!), I'm really OK with having some mystery in our relationship...with not knowing SOME stuff...with being left in the gah-damn dark!
So, before you call me /email me/ draw me pictures of your next colonoscopy experience, PLEASE DON'T.