Subtlety is dead, innuendo is on life support and reserved is just for dinner tables

Ya'll join me in welcoming Miz BB Waite out of the comments section to her first guest post. Miz BB is a retired teacher married for over 20 years to frequent commenter Mocha Dude Speaks. She is a full-time volunteer everywhere teaching folks how to be better folks. Better mothers, brothers, lovers, cooks, parents, spouses, church members, students, gardeners… you name it, she's trying to make it better. She's had a few things on her mind and asked if she could share… show Miz BB some love ya'll.

Hi everybody, let me first thank Chele for allowing my thoughts to be posted and for basically re-writing my thoughts so they made sense. Here goes:

Chele, Jayme and I met at a church function. It was a seminar on "Recognizing the Real in your Relationships". We were the only three who sat near the back with our lips tightly zipped and hadn't shared inappropriate details about our sex lives or overshared issues in our current relationships. At one point, the seminar was so outlandish that we shared a "this can't be real" look amongst ourselves. It was a church function but that didn't seem to stop people from telling the most graphic indiscreet relationship stories imaginable. Finally, the class moderator noticed that we hadn't added anything to the discussion. "You all don't have to be so reserved… feel free to share." Michele said, "But I am reserved, naturally. Thank you."

Okay?! It was all we could do not to high five her right there. After the class, the three of us went out for snacks (okay, drinks). Even then, we were friendly but politely distant. It's been 6 years and there are still some things Jayme, Michele and I just don't discuss. You can be friends, even good friends without getting knee-deep into each other's business. There are some boundaries that it's just inappropriate to cross.

That's a lost art apparently, knowing what's inappropriate to share and what you keep close to your vest?

I read (with much cosigning) Carolyn Edgar's post about the legitimizing (legitimization?) of "hoe-dom." I'm a bit older than Chele and most of her readers so I came up in a time when people didn't discuss the state of their marriages. Not that their marriages were any better, they just weren't talked about. And you most certainly did not talk about infidelity. If you were being cheated on, you dealt with it. If you were doing the cheating, you kept it to yourself. I'm a Bible-Beater, I'll own that. So I can't get my head around sin being celebrated like it's something to be proud of. When people did wrong, they were spoken of in hushed tones, "She is going through some things right now. Pray for her." That covered a world of evil-doing and we were happy that way. We gossiped behind closed doors. Facebook, twitter, email, 24/7 news, instant messaging, camera phones, YouTube and texting have made "behind closed doors" a concept for the history books.

"Keeping your own counsel" – that's a goner too.

I'll admit to being old-fashioned in thought, customs and deeds. I just got to the point where I don't wear pantyhose to church. I still won't wear jeans to church, even if it's just for choir rehearsal. I wouldn't let my daughter date until she turned 16. I finally joined Twitter just so I could comment on Chele's blog. I think I've tweeted 15 times, usually to the girls to say "Call me" or "Read your email." The kids say I'm Old School. But sometimes the old school endures because it's the best school. My marriage has endured because I fashion my relationship after my grandparents. She ran the house but let him run everything else (or let him think it anyway). She believed in picking your battles and only going to the mat for the things you felt most strongly about.

I let Mr. Waite think he's a financial wizard (he would stay overdrawn if it wasn't for me). He compliments me on how nice the house looks (pretending not to know that I have housecleaners in twice a week). I don't argue with my husband in public, I wait to smack my kids upside the head until we get home, and I only raise my voice in public if someone's in mortal danger. I know I'm a throwback. But it works for me. I watch in shocked dismay as couples tear each other apart, in public, on television, in front of the kids. I just saw yesterday where Larry King's old butt was supposedly having an affair with his wife's sister - why did we need to know that and can we just call Viagra the devil's tool?

Not airing the dirty laundry – guess we'll place that next to the rotary phone in the Smithsonian.

One of the things I love about this blog is that we can discuss things. Under the guise of "anonymity" and "sharing for the greater good" we have an opportunity to discuss things (some that I wouldn't normally talk about) without getting overly personal or classless (mostly, every now and then someone gets buck wild in the comments section). But I wonder… am I the only one who wonders where the little subtleties went? Why everything has to be shared and shouted and printed in bold large font? Or as Chele says… Is it just me?

What say you, BougieLand? Comments, thoughts, insights? The floor is yours.