So oversaturated is the compulsion to broadcast our every movement, that we've already met the backlash. We’re supposed to have moved past the culture of oversharing now. We're supposed to conduct our business in inboxes, not on people's "walls". We’re supposed to have had the realisation that nothing is sacred any more and done something about it. And I've had that realisation; when I’m sober, I'm the first person to find PDAs on social media embarrassing, “what I’m up to” status updates shallow, and selfies self-involved.
Which is why it's the sincerity at the heart of my drunk messaging that makes it so humiliating; the PDAs, the overshares, the selfies. It’s the honesty and the transparency that I regret the next day. (More so, even, when that honesty or transparency is directed towards the wrong fucking person.) And that's sad, in a way, isn’t it? Because – as my boss said when I told her I was writing this – “Your 4 am ‘I love yous’ are the only time you're ever actually nice to me".
Last week, that newspaper editor I accidentally text sent me an email. It said: “Shall we go for a beer??” Puzzled as I was, I took this as my opportunity to meet up with her, have a drink, and try to act really, really normal. After a few beers, though, my drunken tendency to overshare reared its ugly head.
I told her the story about the drunk text. I told her that it wasn’t meant for her, that I regretted not apologising, that I felt incredibly embarrassed. To my relief, she laughed. A lot. In a knowing sort of way. And when she stopped laughing, she told me the story was particularly funny because she’d never actually received my message. Then, she told me about a time when she had done a similar thing, and, suddenly, I felt months of hangover shame dissipate. For a brief moment, it felt like the moral of the story was that sometimes it's okay to share. But then my drunk text shame, I knew, would probably be back tomorrow.