When you get so drunk you tell a good friend about the time you were crazily in love with an adrogynous looking person who later turned out to be a female. Your drunken confession delves into epiphanies about your latent homosexuality, your past crushes on (and platonic affairs with) older married people and your dabblings in suicidal behavior. Instances of oversharing are often followed by headaches, embarrassment, vulnerability, extensive journaling and/or therapy and (sometimes) long walks alone.
You: "...and that is ultimately what led me to realize that a homosexual romp with a married best friend could be a character building experience instead of a moral transgression. All the emails, and "dates" and trips were obviously leading up to something. It's like the time in college when I took LSD. I was turned on by the risk of it, like riding a rollercoaster without a safety harness. I mean, I sort of knew I would come out OK but I also..."
Your friend: (to him-or her-self) Sheesh! what an oversharer.
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