Living on a military base is like living on WHA?!

There's an old saying that suggests "Living on a military base is like living in Peyton Place". It's a reference to an old book about a gossipy town from what I gather, although I've never read it myself.

I have to disagree with that analogy. I find it more like living in a therapists office where I'm the therapist.

I am all about listening to my friends issues. I will listen to their issues for hours on end if need be. After all, I know them and care about them.

My problem lies with the people, usually wives, who decide to tell me their entire life story (usually the goriest, most horrific portions) within the first 5 minutes of meeting me. Then of course, I get the detailed updates every time I don't run and lock myself in my car/house/whichever is closest fast enough to avoid them. These are all based on real-life run ins I've had on post.

I don't care. I don't know you. I don't want to know you. You're a nut job.

I don't care about your 10 ex-husbands or your lack of child support, OR how nasty your divorce was after you caught the idiot sleeping with his NCO. I've spoken to you 5 times in my life, so I'm not sure why you think we're BFF's.

I don't care that you are going to your husbands chain of command tomorrow to exert your non-existent HH6 (Household Six) authority because he wasn't able to make the monthly PTA meeting at your kids school. That bastard, out supporting your family... how dare he?! How dare they?! I mean, don't get me wrong - I feel bad for him. He has THAT wife. The career-ender. It's the Army. Get over it. If you ever want him to see past E-4, don't even look at the Company building as you drive by. Lord, what will you do if he ever deploys? I would give you this advice, but I won't because you're STILL rambling and I can't do anything but nod and look at my phone like something important is coming up. You wouldn't listen to me anyway if I tried to help.

I REALLY don't care about your childhood issues. They're none of my business, even if they do explain all that crazy.

I don't care about your imaginary illnesses, or all of the unnecessary tests you're going to have to go through to prove you're an attention seeker.

I don't care that your dead baby daddy tried to kill you and your unborn child from the grave through dreams. I don't care, because it's PSYCHOTIC and I've only known you for 5 minutes. I think I'll leave your house now, psycho. (Based on a true story - turns out she was doped up on pills)

I don't care about your financial situation. I don't know you, I'm not giving you money. Plus, my husband doesn't make much if any more than yours... Well, I don't know if you qualify for welfare, why don't you go ask someone who knows? Like maybe the welfare office for starters... No, I don't know where it is. Sorry.

I don't care that your neighbor reported your dog. It's loud, obnoxious and craps everywhere. You don't take care of it anyway.

I don't care that you don't see any ghosts in my house. Although, I think you should reevaluate your opinion because some crazy stuff happens here.

I don't care that your mom hates you (you're a hard pill to swallow).

Nor, do I care how fat you think you are.

I don't care about your husbands rank. My husbands rank is none of your business because we are in a grocery store parking lot. Actually, my husbands rank would NEVER be  any of YOUR business; you're not in the Army. I don't care how you raise your kids. I don't care that your neighbor is a gossip. I don't care that she's sleeping with a General. I just don't care. Also, all of these stupid questions you've been asking me between breaths from your complaints are going to go unanswered.

I don't care. I don't know you. I don't want to know you. You're a nut job.

Nice to meet you though, I suppose.