You’re going on and on about how your hateful co-workers are “all up in my shit.” Meanwhile, our mental orchestra has already played you off-stage and gone to commercial break. If there’s no new info being transmitted-- like your approximate freak level-- we might as well be in two different dimensions.
[Note: A man may let you jabber on incessantly if you’re at a club, bar or other event where alcohol is served, as this gives him a gauge-- per your increasingly slurred and fragmented speech-- of how drunk you’re getting (smash!).]
So when you’re talking to a guy you just met or don’t know very well, remember your Twitter allotment-- 140 characters or less-- please! We're simple creatures, I know, but isn't that part of the charm? Pretend you’ve just won the Academy Award; be Alfred Hitchcock (who holds the record for the shortest Oscar acceptance speech)… not Cuba Gooding, Jr. or any of those fools who begin with, “I didn’t prepare a speech but…”