Anyone that has any kind of contact with me, be it personal or virtual, probably knows I’ve just had my wisdom teeth out – and that’s because I won’t shut up about it. I constantly talk about how it went, how I felt and how I feel now. I give my poor flatmates regular updates on the state of the inside of my mouth, and the fact that whilst I slept through Saturday night no problem, I was up at 5am in pain on the Sunday night, and about how the stitches have started to come loose.

Now, I’m not so socially inept that I haven’t noticed, amongst the oodles of compassion, the eye-rolls or looks of ‘will this bitch shut up about her teeth already’. But, you know what, I’ll shut up about it when I’m good and ready to shut up about it.

Society dictates that when someone goes through a big life event, be it surgery, a marriage or a new baby, there is a certain temporal threshold in which they are perfectly allowed to talk incessantly about their ‘new thing’. But there does come a time – usually about two weeks after said event – when it becomes a bit of social faux pas to keep banging on about it. It’s like when Sharon goes to pull out her wedding album for the fifth time, all we can think is ‘jesh Sharon it’s been two months now, get the fuck over it, you only got married you didn’t cure bloody cancer’ before exchanging subtle eye rolls with best friend number two over Sharon’s unknowing shoulder.

But I say go for it Sharon! Fuck society. Get those wedding albums out and lets relive a moment. Because really that’s what it’s all about. For Sharon that wedding was a big deal and it was probably one of the most memorable days of her life, and all she clearly wants is to live that moment once again. We should feel privileged that Sharon wants to share those memories with us.

As listeners we can often mistake our friend’s unrelenting ‘rants’ as bragging or vying for sympathy, but typically they represent nothing more than an over-enthusiastic desire to share information. Let’s take a moment to look after our friends and appreciate that they aren’t bragging or asking for sympathy or rubbing it in your face that their oral hygiene is now so much better than yours, but merely sharing what is happening in their life and what is exciting to them in that moment. Set aside your cynicism and let people prattle on because when you have something to say they might just return the favour.

Unfortunately as Brits we are quite conscious of committing such a social faux pas. I’ve had friends ashamedly apologise for continually talking about their exes and it breaks my heart. What kind of a friend would I be if I wasn’t looking after the welfare of my mate. Whether it takes two weeks or two years to get over someone I will still be there to listen. And even after two years if you want to dig that cheating motherfucker out of the conversation box, I say let’s do it and see what progress we’ve made. I mean, there are enough vapid conversations going on about snapchat and Miley Cyrus that I think talking about something in your own life – albeit incessantly – is not actually such a bad thing.

Talking is cathartic, it is therapeutic and it is bond building. If we don’t communicate, how do we ever know what is going on inside someone else’s head. Instead of rolling our eyes or having bitchy chats about how heart-broken Steve’s conversation has become rather lack-lustre of late we should just be thankful that that friend or colleague is offering a sneak peak into the window of their brain.

I don’t want to feel rushed or pressured to stop talking about my operation, or the awesome few days I got to spend at home with my mum, or the fact that I can lick my stitches and it feels weird, because for me that is what’s running through my brain right now. My operation was a long overdue and highly anticipated event in my life (which makes for a sad reflection on how exciting my life is at the mo). So fuck it, I want to share it and I’m not done talking about it.

So next time you roll your eyes at the proverbial Sharon, Steve or Louise, try to stop yourself (without looking like you’re about to have a seizure) and let them have a few more minutes of your time and your compassion.*

*Unless they literally have been talking for like ages then tell them to shut the fuck up.