Life and stuff: The etiquette of crying in public
Please blame Twitter for the fact that you are getting two back-to-back doses of my amateur philosophy this week.
I asked whether I should blog about a) boobs, b) wine, or c) crying in public and the Twitterverse came back with a unanimous c).
Crying in public. We have all done it at some point. I did it last week. I was sitting in the foyer of the Diamant Hotel in Kings Cross, stealing their wifi, when an old friend texted me something that made me cry. A lot. To the point of having snot running down my face.
I didn’t have a tissue. I didn’t even have a large receipt that I could MacGyver into a nose wipe. I just had to sit there surreptitiously secreting facial juices in the hope that the friendly Americans opposite me would continue bitching about the download speed and ignore the weeping crazy lady.
What exactly are you supposed to do when you are crying in public. Pretend you have something in your eye? Smile and act like your best friend just had a baby? Or just get it over with and not worry about the people around you?
What do you do if you see someone else crying? Extend a helping hand? Stare at the wall and play a grown-up game of statues?
I am an empathiser of distortionate proportions. ANZAC Day kills me. I can’t bear funerals. I cry in the Wildlife Photographer of the Year exhibition whenever a dugong so much as looks at a drag net. I really do feel your pain.
What do you do when you see someone crying in public? Do you ask them if they’re OK or should you leave them alone? Have you ever had a major sob fest in a open space surrounded by strangers? What the hell are you supposed to do? I hope you weren’t reading this because you thought I had any answers for you …