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In the fall of 2007, I met a guy on OK Cupid who proved to be a classic case for SAP. We never met in person, mercifully; he lived too far away, not that his proximity would have kept me from devising transparent excuses not to meet. The Blabbermouth messaged me about politics, which I of course could not resist. I replied, and what seemed a spirited debate at first quickly degenerated into him running his mouth about any and every topic under the sun. And moon. And stars. He could turn absolutely anything into a story, and not in a good way. There are fascinating stories about innocuous topics out there—the History Channel's Modern Marvels frequently depicts such stories—but those stories are relegated to documentary television for a reason; they are actually worth listening to. The rest of the dull stories out there are just dull. Some people have the gift of gab; most people just gab. The Blabbermouth was one such, probably the worst such I've met. I was tiring of him rapidly; unfortunately, he already had my screen name on instant messenger. I was working at Linens 'N Things at the time, and the Blabbermouth found that fascinating and liked to talk about it with me. The fact that he found a retail gig in a big box store fascinating should be a clue as to exactly how awesome these one-sided chats were. The Blabbermouth described, in detail, how he had purchased a small trash can from Linens 'N Things. What should have been "Oh, yeah, I got my trash can from there" and nothing more turned into a lengthy essay regarding Linens 'N Things deals, a comparison/contrast between different styles of trash cans, and the differences between Linens 'N Things and other home furnishing stores. Honestly, he was worse than V8. Readers and fellow SAPs, take a lesson: There is a difference between a minor point and a dissertation. Retail stores very rarely fall into the category of lengthy conversational value. I could understand a debate on WalMart's despicable treatment of their employees, or stories about hilarious coworkers told by an employee of said store (with the understanding that "hilarious" means "the audience is laughing hard"), but random drivel about coupons and wicker trash cans is unlikely to qualify. Beyond constantly talking about my fairly monotonous and ordinary retail job, the Blabbermouth also had stories of his own. He told me a story of a car accident he'd been involved in a couple of years previously. The big wreck story turned out to be nothing more than a minor fender bender with no injuries sustained, but he dragged out every detail as excruciatingly as if he wanted me to also suffer the imaginary pain inflicted by the accident. Worse still, he told me the story twice. A couple of weeks after the first time he told the story, he brought it up again. I said "You've already told me this story," but he kept talking. I said once or twice more that I'd already heard and recalled the story, but he kept babbling away as though I had said nothing. Either he wasn't paying attention to me, or it never occurred to him to abandon the story (preferable) or just wrap up quickly. I rolled my eyes but let it drop, not wanting to be rude. The Blabbermouth was well aware of his verbal diarrhea. I never mentioned it to him, but somebody must have. He brought it up several times during the course of our acquaintance. I gingerly suggested that he work on gradually reining in his constantly spewing yap. I hinted that stories like the Linens 'N Things story could be reduced to one offhand remark, and the story of the big wreck that wasn't could have been condensed as well, not to mention it only needed to be told once. I also pointed out that he didn't need to talk constantly, which he seemed to believe he did. He said he needed to say something to fill up the gaps in the conversation. I said no he didn't and that companionable silences were perfectly acceptable. More often than not, when I talk to friends on instant messenger, there are bits of conversation interspersed with long gaps while the other person talks to other friends, reads, watches TV or YouTube videos, etc. Constant talking is unnecessary, tedious to follow, and, as Kryten would say, duller than an in-flight magazine produced by Air Belgium. The Blabbermouth refused to deal with his admitted problem. He knew that he talked too much, and he knew he needed to change, yet he was unwilling to actually change. What? He said changing would be "going along to get along." "But," I pointed out in exasperation, "isn't 'getting along' the whole point? And we're not talking about reversing your party registration or converting your religion or anything; it's just about bettering yourself and making yourself more socially acceptable." He shrugged me off, reiterating his stance on not wanting to go along to get along. I sighed, shook my head, and secretly began wondering how long it would be before I inevitably lost my patience with him and blocked him. It didn't take long. Not more than a couple of weeks after the last of our conversations regarding him wanting to improve himself without actually changing, he laid the last straw on the camel's back. He took fifteen minutes to tell me a story about a trip he made to a WalMart. He began telling the story, and I instantly rolled my eyes and thought 'Here we go again,' but then I thought 'No no, give him a chance; this might actually be interesting. Maybe he saw a celebrity or the building burned down or something.' A couple of minutes into the story, though, as he was detailing the completely ordinary drive to the store, I realized the story was headed nowhere. I decided to go make a cup of tea, but I didn't bother to type "brb" since I cynically calculated that if I did so, he would wait till I had returned to tell the story anyway, thus prolonging my annoyance. I left him typing away and went to make my tea. While I was in the kitchen, I unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher, and then I started laundry. When I finally returned to the computer fifteen minutes later, he was still typing and hadn't even noticed I was gone! Incredible. My jaw dropped a little, and I abruptly decided that the moment had come. I told myself not to be hasty and to count to ten. I got to about three and blocked him. Somewhat predictably, I later received an email from him asking "What did I do that was sooo offensive that you had to stop talking to me without any explanation?" Not that I would have replied anyway, but the sarcastic tone of the email was in itself enough not to warrant a response. That was probably just as well, because if I had replied, I most likely would have said "Well, it's impossible to strangle people over the Internet, so I had to settle for the next best thing. It was either that or lull you into a false sense of security, trick your home address out of you, 'borrow' my dad's rifle, and pay a surprise visit. I don't feel like going to jail, though, so I settled for the block button. Not as instantly gratifying as a trigger, but somehow more likely to secure my ultimate happiness." Three years later, he emailed me again on OK Cupid, saying only "Still haven't figured out why you 'poofed' on me." Well, the fact that he hunted me down to pester me again three years after the fact would be a clue. Lesson to my fellow SAPs: Never continue to pester somebody who clearly doesn't want to talk to you. In the Blabbermouth's case, I took a kind of sadistic joy in the awareness that his social circle would dwindle still further over time. He's one of those people who is so socially inept that he has selected himself out. It's almost a Darwin award: That guy will never produce any offspring, because no girl will ever put up with his incessant meebling. This story reminds me strongly of a classic clip from The Red Green Show: Every week more and more guys are "coming out" of the tool room and admitting it. Admitting we have nothing to say, to anyone, about anything. I know that feeling. And your wife probably understands. You've said it all before. You're still with her. You have nothing to add. And this is all right. Unfortunately some guys who have nothing to say still keep talking. Like, if you find yourself ranting about the way people are parking cars on your street, well, you have nothing to say. Stop talking. If you find yourself going on and on about why Jeopardy is way better than Wheel of Fortune, or about how hard it is to open those new orange juice containers, or the high price of hammers, you have nothing to say. If you notice you're telling everyone a hilarious story that you read in Reader's Digest—stop talking. People aren't listening to you. The person you're talking to has glazed over and is just nodding their head, while they make up a grocery list or plan their winter vacation, or vow never to get as old and boring as you. So don't just keep talking until you think of something worth saying. You may not. Good God do I wish I'd found that clip and showed it to him. Sadly, though, he would have just said "Yeah, I know, but I have to say something." No you don't. He gave a new meaning to that saying "You keep your friends by keeping your mouth shut." Really, this whole story, or even half of SAP, could be summed up with just that clip from Red Green: "You have nothing to say; stop talking." |