Gossip Girl

Let's face it, we all love gossip.

Short of being an utterly antisocial hermit huddled on a mountaintop alone, humans are basically social creatures who love each other's company - and once we gather, we tend to talk trash about each other as well. Probably ever since the first grunting cavemen returned to brag about the monstrous mastodon they all escaped from earlier.

Thankfully these days though, we tend to focus less on man-eating predators and more on what's happening in our lives; usually from the more mundane information such as progress at work and possible promotions thereafter to the more salacious details of someone's broken marriage and the reasons thereof.

Cue the trash talk from the ever-fertile rumour mill.

Though some of my more innocent friends usually cry foul to claim that it isn't always true.

Paul : So you know of her but you don't actually know her. 
Barbara : Yes, people have been talking about her. 
Paul : Ah, so what terrible news have you heard? 
Barbara : Nothing!
Paul : Stories about her reached you but there's nothing to tell. 
Barbara : Nothing bad at least. 
Paul : They spoke good things about her? 
Barbara : Yes. 
Paul : Do I look that gullible to you? 

Really? Schoolmates spread favourable news about someone around town.

Girl : Have I got some news for you!
Paul : Ooh pray tell. 

Let's not kid ourselves.

Perhaps if we all lived in a perfect utopia. Undoubtedly tales of selfless heroism and wonderful good deeds do make it onto the front page sometimes but believe the sad cynic here when I say, people rarely gather around the hearth to gossip about that. Virtuous saints do plenty of good that's hardly mentioned but it's their one little known inconsequential failing that gets everyone talking.

After all there's always that little touch of malice in the third retelling.

So despite what our sweetly optimistic Barbara wants to believe, gossip's rarely good.

Fear not though. Though rumours would persistently circulate so long as humans are around, we also have to remember to take what's whispered around about people objectively since generally there are parts that would be wildly fallacious. Like Chinese Whispers, any scandalously juicy bit gets a little added spice as the tale gets spread around so there's usually a veritable feast of scrumptious ignominy at the very end.

Maybe take it with a little pinch of salt.

Three Gay Uncles

Not so very long ago, the term confirmed bachelor was a delicate euphemism in polite conversation that hinted at a gentleman's sexual inclinations; no doubt followed by a loaded silence with a few discerning nods and even disappointed sighs by those in the know.

These days however, it's not that uncommon to find a confirmed bachelor in our midst. Though some might whisper about his inclinations, there would still be a shred of doubt since endless possibilities abound. Anything from a severe lack of dating opportunities to the prospect of a broken heart, and even asexuality could be a factor.

But what if there wasn't only one, not even two ... but three confirmed bachelors in one house? One, perhaps not. We all have that solitary relative who has remained firmly unattached. Two, hmm. But if there were three single unmarried men in one house?

And what if all three bachelor uncles were related closely to Diffident David?

Certainly lends an intriguing slant to the tale, no?

Paul : And you still think your mother doesn't know? 
David : No, she doesn't. 
Paul : With three gay uncles under one roof? 
David : They aren't gay. 
Paul : Have they dated any women? Are they dating any women? 
David : Not that I know of. 
Paul : Hmmm. So how would you know? 
David : They aren't. 

That's what everyone says before the closet door is flung open.

According to David, they are all eminently marriageable with decent wages, residences of their own and all three seem to be of sound mind and body. Surely there couldn't have been some severe calamity that rendered all three men in the family utterly incapable of coaxing even the most demurring female to accompany them all the way to the altar?

I'm not saying the three uncles have regular gay orgies on the weekends ( ooh la la! ) where gay incest is always on the table - a scandalous idea that horrified our prudish David - but even going by the simple laws of probability, it's quite possible one of the three could be gay.

With three unmarried men in the house, it's quite obvious the other relatives would have briefly entertained the possibility of homosexuality. Let's not kid ourselves, with the advent of television and media even the most isolated mountain villages have heard about gay pride and such.

Yes, even David's mother.

The appalling thought of which horrified our Diffident David into stupefied silence. Something to think about I guess.

Dating 2018

You'd think by my venerable age I'd have gotten over the entirely absurd rigmarole of dating conventions and the ensuing insanity that entails. That's just entirely sophomoric high school stuff, no? These days isn't it all about getting an instant lay from the prurient dating apps?

Guess not all of us graduated fully from high school since unfortunately with some of my less conversant friends these days, Dating 101 seems to be all we're talking about from the confusing etiquette of tentative first dates to the vague possibility of the figurative coffee after. We might as well be having our packed lunches at the school canteen bench.

Although I have to say some of Miz Grundy's puritanical ideas do seem like they have been carried forward from her sophomoric days.

Or more likely her solemn times in the nunnery.

Paul : Well it's simple really. Why don't you just ask him out?
Miz Grundy : I can't do that. 

Paul : Why not? Is there a law against it? 

Miz Grundy : Girls don't ask guys out on dates!

Paul : Did you fall into a wormhole? Are you seriously stuck in the Victorian era? 

Obviously I was utterly aghast to hear such an archaic concept mentioned in the post women's lib era. Did all that relentless bra burning mean nothing to her?

A man in my carriage! I shall keep my gaze stonily affixed to the front. 
Oh dear is that his hand?
A man's hand!
Brushing against me!
Lawd-a-mercy I'm going to faint. 

It was like talking to one of the more straight-laced Regency heroines in one of my dog-eared Heyer novels. Miss Wraxton from the Grand Sophy perhaps?

Hard to even have a decent conversation when something as simple as asking a gentleman out had her all aflutter! Never even occurred to her that such a revolutionary milestone had passed her by while she'd been locked up in a hideaway convent. When relentlessly pressed for a reason, all Miz Grundy could fall back on was a sad, feeble fear of rejection.

You can imagine the veritable hailstone of rebukes and reprimands that followed that pathetic admission. Oh really, come on. Well, hello and welcome to the world of hopeful bachelors all around the world. So now you know how guys feel when they try to pick girls up at the bar. 

So get over yourself and try it.

Or maybe turn on Tindr? I should have known better than to have made such a scandalous suggestion since obviously that terribly distressing notion caused her to reach for her smelling salts as she fell into a near swoon.