I have grown very fond of the saying "TMI!" (Too Much Information). I wish I'd known it when I was in my teens and early twenties. I seem to have a persona that makes people want to relax a little too much around me, and before you know it, I know their deepest and darkest secrets.
For instance, I once dated a guy who, on the second date, broke down and confessed to me that he had been molested repeatedly by his brothers and uncles, yet he'd never told anyone else. Too late to say "TMI!" but the word bounced about in my brain. I'm sorry if this sounds cold and calloused, but I choose to not be a counselor in my personal life (with the exception of advice, when it's asked for). And I did what I'd recommend to any other woman: I ran like hell.
Of course this brings up the whole, sticky "At what point do you level with your date about (insert problem here)?" Not on the second date, I can tell you. Unless you served time.
When I was 18 and just newly wed, I had one of the ultimate TMI conversations of my life... with my mother-in-law.
My mother-in-law had been very kindly to me, and we got along famously at first. She taught me how to cross-stitch and do other crafts, and I saw her as almost more of a friend than a "mom". She appeared to be a very relaxed and easy-going woman until one day with no warning, she asked...
"Do you guys have oral sex?!?!"
WHAM! It hit me out of the blue, clear out from left field. I stared at her stunned, for a moment. "Um, why do you ask?" I said hesitantly, my 18-year-old brain running about in circles, screaming.
"Because it's a sin, you know," she said very seriously, now quite alarmed about it. And the woman wasn't even Catholic!
What I should have said at that point was "You want TMI!" or "Show me in scripture where it says oral sex is a sin!" or even "I'm having a heart attack! Call 911!" But instead I said weakly, "Oh, well then it's good that we don't..."
The other time she got me was the day we were discussing my upcoming childbirth. "When it's all over, you might think about asking them to not sew you up as tight," she said casually. "I don't know if my son is as big as his father, but I asked my doctor to do that after my hysterectomy. We have a much better sex life now that I can accomodate him easier."
And to make it even worse, my mother-in-law looked like Buddy Hacket and my father-in-law looked like Don Knotts with a worried little monkey face. To this day, I hope they don't have a sex life.
EEK! ACK! TMI! TMI! TMI!