No matter how much we might publicly decry salacious rumours, deep inside we all just love listening to every juicy delicious detail. Nothing's quite as morbidly fascinating especially when it's happening to that seemingly perfect Stepford neighbour.
Although I've been a target of such malicious rumours as well, I don't mind them. Much. Come on, if they actually stopped talking about me, I'd have to be dead I'm sure. After all your envious rivals would talk regardless of what you allegedly did, your true friends wouldn't care anyways so who does it actually hurt?
These days I find the rumour mill refreshing actually, solid proof that the world does go on, that people continue living their lives one day at a time - and the rest continue talking about what they did. Hardly any news passes by the immense hospital grounds that my trusty nurses haven't gotten wind of it. Every wicked little caper. Every sordid little affair. Every little piece of dirt some poor soul thought was forever swept beneath the carpet.
Believe me, my nurses and my colleagues are better at digging for character assasinating information than all three CSI teams put together.
Then I hear about this from a little bird.
Fit Fred was a colleague of mine back when we were slogging through school. Never really got all that close to him despite our shared schedules and co-curricular activities. Laidback, easygoing guy with a near-spotless reputation ( apart from a few mindless juvenile antics ), liked by most who knew him. Still last I saw of him, he'd settled down considerably with a stable career, gotten happily married with two kids - and possibly more to come.
What did you hear about me?
And then I hear that little rumour. Not only infidelity but deviant little tricks behind dark leafy bushes with men of a similar persuasion. Am I shocked? Yes. Am I appalled? Yes, since I've always abhorred infidelity. Am I amused? Once I got over the initial astonishment, hell yeah!
Although my macho friend always displayed a healthy interest in girls, I'd always found it a little forced, perhaps a little overdone... but then I could be imagining that. Sure I've always thought that he had a certain quality but at that time being overcome by pesky hormones, I imagined everyone ( including my grandmother ) had that quality. Still I never imagined that Fred would start picking up comely fellas over at the town park / public facilities ala George Michael.
Rumours. You just never know what you're going to hear once you place your ear to the ground. Next I'll hear that one of my colleagues has decided to headline a Vegas drag show.