In 6th grade, I was climbing the stairwell at school and heard D’Aisy* a half flight up, talking loudly to her BFF Giselle*.
D’Aisy said, “I’m not inviting her.” Giselle said, “Good, she bugs me so much.”
Interesting.
I started jogging up the steps to catch up. “Who’s this about?” I asked them. “Who bugs you?”
They looked at me like I’d said, “Will you write my report on Mesopotamia for me?”
We weren’t friends.
“No offense, Laura,” D’Aisy said, “But that’s none of your business.”
My face burned with that tingle you get when you trip. I probably did trip.
“Oh. Sorry,” I shouted up to them, and slowed down so I wouldn’t catch up after all.
Maybe that’s when I learned you don’t get to butt into random people’s conversations and ask “Wait, what’s this?”
It’s like going up to a stranger who’s eating a sandwich and saying, “Can I have a bite of your sandwich? Wait, let me bite the part with all the cheese and stuff.”
(I’ve never figured out why you are allowed to ask for a cigarette. For another day.)
So I started eavesdropping.
Problem is, I’m not subtle. My ears have the notion that they’ll hear better if I stare really hard.
That’s why my husband always catches me doing it.
In late October, we were walking down the street in Hudson, NY – a town where, despite a cute main drag featuring shop after shop for weekenders to buy vintage Knoll credenzas or hand-churned ice cream, the streets one block over are a showcase of sagging porches with motorcycle parts, threadbare strollers, and wet furniture stripped down to the yellow foam rubber.
There’s a high population of residents wearing dingy pajama bottoms with puffy coats and yelling at each other.
Steven caught me staring at one such scene, trying to figure out why the lady with stringy hair and cloud-printed flannel PJs was yelling at the woman in the rusty SUV. He said, “Cut it out. I see what you’re doing.”
“What am I doing?”
“Being nosy.”
“I’m not nosy, I’m curious.”
No, he told me. I was nosy. I asked the difference.
“Curious is when you want to learn something. Nosy is when you’re looking for some shit.”
Fine. Nosy as charged.
I like conflicts and secrets. Dirt. Some shit.
Why’d she get fired?
Who’s he cheating with?
She had collagen injected where?
Who’s this person you “don’t want to call out by name” in the Facebook group? DM me and spill!
When I hear someone crying on the phone outside my window, I open the window.
I like things that aren’t my business.
I guess that’s why I love Real Housewives. If world history were all fights had over text messages, group trips to Morocco and private lunch “sitdowns,” and then negotiated on tufted sofas with Andy Cohen in the center, I’d be a history professor.
Is curious better than nosy?
Curiosity gets all the TED Talks (“The Power of Curiosity,” “The Case For Curiosity,” “7 TED Talks to Stir Your Curiosity”) and all the quotes (“Curiosity is the wick in the candle of learning” — William Arthur Ward).
Look for quotes on nosiness and you won’t find much more than a mug that says “NOSY PEOPLE MAKE ME SICK.” (Powerful stuff! You enjoy your Lemon Zinger tea there, I won’t ask you anything.)
I say curious is the easy way out.
Look what a breeze it is to satisfy. You can go to the bookstore, watch documentaries, take a continuing ed class. But God forbid you should say to someone at the coffee shop, “Can you please speak louder? It sounds like you’re really pissed at someone you work with, who’s taking credit for your idea? Is that it? I couldn’t tell, you’re speaking so low that I’m missing half of it. ”
Plus, when you’re nosy, you often have to choose between the podcast you’re in the middle of and taking out your headphones to hear what people are saying. You have to prioritize.
Nosy takes real work and bravery.
So, I’m raising a big glass of Nunya Bizness to my fellow nosy people. Here’s to you. (What were you just talking about?)
Now you.
I’m curious – do you think curiosity is better than nosy?
Which are you?
TELL ME IN THE COMMENTS.
*Names changed but apostrophe kept for veracity and texture.
Well… I can you alottaya like nosy. I don’t… in others, or in myself. Wrote a poem called, “Ain’t My Business”. Knowing too much about others’ crap can be a downer, perhaps because I am a Sensitive. It used to make me feel good, and yes, as per one comment I’ve read on the ‘net, we can use it as a prop to make us feel better. I want to feel better because I love me, not because someone else has ‘faults’ or problems.
I have a very good friend who I consider nosy. When her husband is outside talking to someone, she just has to get out there too, to see what’s going on – never mind that it makes her late for a meeting. someone comes into their house to talk to her husband about cars, she has to be right in there, too! Their finger is in everyone else’s pie. Yes, they are helpful. Yes, they are nosy. What they need to know serves no purpose other than to make them ‘special’ because they know everything about everybody. And yes, I love her anyways! I just wonder at this need to know other people’s business.
I’ve called myself curious for years but now, thanks to your brilliant insight, I’m pretty sure I’m nosy. I want to get in there and know the details, the dirty stuff, possibly make it dirtier, and hope not to offend but if I do, they ain’t my people. I also know I want to help make things easier, more fun, more interesting, more real. So getting nosy helps me do that. If people want me to butt out, fine. Again, they ain’t my people. xx
I have totally been that girl at school butting in the middle of a conversation and asking “What are you talking about?”. What’s more, I was completely oblivious of being noisy. I just wanted to know and be a part of something 😛
haha I don’t buy this “you’re nosy because you’re a writer.” If you really wanted to get paid to hear some shit, you’d be a therapist. I think you’re a writer because you heard so much shit you had to write some of it down.
I think curiousity is awesome! Always have a child’s mind when you are exploring and on a conquest!
As always Laura – great content to share
Not sure if I’m nosy or curious. My 13-year old daughters always says “mommm!” when I’m listening to conversations in cafes and I’m doing it more than ever because our family is traveling to different countries.
I also love airbnbs that are lived in at least part time because I like to look at the snapshots on there fridges and other fun personal details.
I think I might be abut of each!
As we used to say at Wes, I am nosy-curious. It’s not my full identity, but I do dabble in the nose arts.
Virtually in the moment realization that I mask nosiness with ‘oh I’m a context gal – so….tell me more?’. To those that oblige my ‘more context’ requests…I (and my creative brain of witnessing the lifey-ness of life always in freakin’ motion) salute you.
Ha, I hear ya. I think my Twitter bio testifies.:-)
I am nosey. No question about that. And I do hear better when I’m staring. My sister has often frogged me in the arm for it. I don’t mind. Their life events is what I’m interested in, erh, learning about.
Damn, I wish I were as nosy as you, Laura. I’d be a much better writer.
Well that’s the last time I try to chance my email address in the middle of replying! lol
Damn, I wish I were as nosy as you, Laura. I’d be a much better writer.
Well this is just fucking perfection. You got me LOL’n every time.
The life coach in me digs curiosity like Dave Chappelle’s crackhead loves crack. But the girl who grew up on the outskirts of every click in school…she’s got a PhD in nosey.
So, yea.
Thanks for the good time.
xxo,
~ J
Yes BUT! You’re a writer so I will say that this nosiness helps you immensely in your craft. It’s like a part of your being. Just wanted to give you some absolution bc I’ve noticed (through being nosy I s’pose) that writers tend to find people and situations fascinating. But it’s a slippery slope.