I blame Oscar Wilde; Reading it at a formative age, his line “There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is.” No “There’s talk about it” stuck in my head.
So part of me really thought I was doing my classmates a favor when, as a precocious pubescent, I told stories about them to others with the invariable overture “promise you won’t tell, but…”
During one beautiful spring, I was the trash-spreading equivalent of those plate-spinners you see on variety shows. Then I got laryngitis (probably from all that poison I was selling) and was out of school for a month.
When I returned, I discovered that all my gossip had been discovered and that no one in my class wanted to talk to me. Far from being upset or regretting it, I discovered that it gave me even more time to read inappropriate books. Plus, I’ve always loved my own company.
The Princess of Wales spoke about her cancer diagnosis last week
Still, I should have learned my lesson, but going straight from school into journalism wasn’t really conducive to that. I was a shy girl when I first entered the unpleasant world of newspapers; When I gossiped, I could pretend to be the evil woman of the world I passionately wanted to be.
But I’ve always felt okay behaving this way because, being extremely callous (even callous) myself, I’ve stayed true to the “if you give it, you better take it” school. thinking. I’ve always despised those two-faced guys who love a bit of slander until they’re the topic, when they suddenly go #BeKind.
I don’t really care what people say about me. I didn’t even file a lawsuit when a newspaper accused me of being in love with Osama bin Laden. In fact, when I had too much time on my hands at the turn of the century, I would occasionally visit online message boards and start a rumor about myself.
But after watching the Princess of Wales talk about her cancer diagnosis last week, I felt an emotion that’s usually foreign to me: shame.
Like many of us, I heard rumors from a social media acquaintance about William and Kate that didn’t reflect well on either of them, and then I repeated them twice. It wasn’t much, it wasn’t the worst, and I didn’t go crazy with the craziest conspiracy theories.
However, while I wouldn’t have felt guilty spreading similar rumors about showbiz studs and stars, who have so brazenly pursued fame, the princess is different. This was not a reality show that was performed for attention; This is someone’s life.
I was left wondering: If I was willing to add to the pain of a frail woman of only 42 years preparing her three young children for an uncertain future, who do I belong to? No ready to add?
It’s an uncomfortable situation, even for me. And if I’m happy to spread rumors this way, can I really say I’m a Christian?
So, after a lifetime of talking trash, I have decided to stop saying things that are neither opinions nor personal facts; In short, gossip.
You may wonder if that vote is really a sacrifice, but for someone who has savored gossip for so long, it’s certainly a sea change. Even if I can’t claim that my love of gossip has always served me well.
If I think about the gossip I’ve told over the years, none of the gossip I’ve heard about famous people “from a friend of a friend” has turned out to be true.
Julie Burchill writes that she deluded herself that she was somehow being noble by gossiping.
(Other than the one about the girl who woke up next to an extraordinarily ugly but very successful ’90s pop star after an ill-advised one-night stand. Instead of waking him up, fearing a repeat performance would be necessary, she allowed herself to leave Her mansion found a wide driveway in front of it, at the end of which was a pair of tall, locked doors. She stood there desolately until after ten minutes a police car drove by, reversed and stopped; a female police officer jumped out (She blurted out, laughed, and punched in the opening code. Apparently it happened so often that the pop star had given the numbers to her local cop.)
Even when I deceived myself, in some ways I was being noble by gossiping, it often did more harm than good. ‘I won’t do it No “I excluded her from my social circle,” I scolded a friend who wanted us to permanently shunt another friend of ours.
“She is an escort and deserves our compassion.” The first friend had no idea that the second was a sex worker until that moment.
So why do I do it? Political campaign manager Ben Wallace once said of a certain cabinet member that he had “an emotional need to gossip, especially when he is drunk.”
Which at least gives him some sort of excuse; my own reasoning is much less pitiable: I like to entertain.
Because I tell my husband everything (and have done so for the almost 30 years I’ve known him), my friendships tend to consist of entertaining people rather than trusting them; It’s the same reason I prefer to take people to restaurants than to their homes.
At some point in my poor but honest childhood I decided that, if I ever had the chance, I would turn life into a party, and somehow (shamefully) idly playing with the real things in people’s lives has become so careless like ordering another round. of drinks.
I can’t pretend I’ll be sitting there crying while drinking my Long Island Iced Tea thinking about all the people I’ve hurt with my gossip over the past few decades. From what I know, they were gossiping about me too.
But I’m trying to turn the page. My friend James has tried to start gossip with me twice recently and both times I responded, “I can’t comment.” You find this very funny, but I may have the last laugh.
Because I’d like to be remembered as more than a constantly flowing cesspool of salacious gossip, even if it has been a lot of fun.