I recently got an e-mail from an acquaintance that falls into what we psychology-minded types would call -- in unguarded moments -- a prolonged emotional fart. It was from an acquaintance, not a friend.
This particular e-mail was the recounting of a dreadful encounter with a woman I have never met, describing in lurid detail the woman's diagnostic emotional vulnerabilities. The e-mail motivated, I'm guessing, by either the sender's unconscious or adamantly deliberate desire to take a dump -- you should pardon the expression -- in my cyberspace, fueled by his needs to defend, monologue, analyze, and interpret the woman as being insane.
A long rant wrapped in the spirit of a chatty, Christmas family update, sending forth more than a pinecone's whiff of emotional disconnection.
It was the kind of conversation that you have with your best friend, in person, because it is so, well, personal.
I am discovering a current pinhole in the social fabric of acquaintance behavior, (though not in an "Al Gore-discovered-the- internet" kind of way).
When did it become carte blanche to narcissistically flood an acquaintance with e-mail detailing grossly disappointing, intimate personal episodes? Is it a form of "virtual therapy"? Or less strategically, is it a form of "virtual friendship"?
Employing e-mail, for ******'s sake, bypassing the inconvenient inquiry of permission to trespass on the internal canyons of someone else's mind.
Of course, the delete button is a giddy and reliable friend to all.
The point is, we now use e-mail as a sociopathic entry into getting attention from anyone -- bingo points, I suppose, for the justification that I'm a psychotherapist.
This reminds me of a recent cocktail party experience, a classic tagline gurgled out the mouth of a stranger, aimed for my ear.
"You're a therapist, right? You are going to be thrilled with the dream I just had!" Yes, I thought, I alone, have hit the jackpot. Out of everyone here, I will receive the man's golden turd.
Maybe you had to be there.
In any case, there is no such thing as "personal" anymore.
The "personal computer," PC, ran off with it, and that feral cat is not coming back.