My friends have said, on several occasions, that I should not eavesdrop.

But here’s the thing: the Merriam-Webster dictionary defines eavesdrop as “to listen secretly to what is said in private.”

By that definition, I would not consider what I do to be eavesdropping.

In no way does the fifth row from the back of the lecture hall qualify as a private space. What is said there is said in public.

I just got back from class and I am setting the scene for a story I am telling my friends about a pair of individuals I overheard talking before the lecture started.

“Barely anyone else in the room was talking.” “You would think they would realize how loud they were talking.”

I begin to describe the individuals picking out definable qualities; “The one on the left had this unusually high ponytail that mirrored the movements of her mouth while she talked,” and “The other one had this ugly pink sweater that literally made everything around her the same ugly color.”

Using bits and pieces of what I have overheard, I put together as much as I can about what it is they are talking about.

The ponytail girl is talking all about how her favorite pair of jeans — the ones she wore the night she lost her virginity — and how one of her friends threw up on them at a party. She just couldn’t bear to wear them anymore, so she needed to find a new pair of lucky jeans.

I remind my friends just how ridiculous it is that this conversation is even happening.

“Mind you, this entire discussion is going on inside a quiet lecture hall. I have, somehow, landed myself just one row behind this obviously life-altering story.”

The best part is I am not obligated to come up with the punch line of the story. Ugly-pink-sweater girl has already done that for me.

“Seriously though, how are you supposed to ever have sex again if you don’t have a pair of jeans that make your butt look good?!”

And so, the conversation disintegrates into dull conversation about where they should go shopping for ponytail’s newest pair of sex jeans and I finish my story with some line about how idiotic it is that Ugly-pink-sweater actually bought into the crazy logic perpetuated by ponytail girl.

Every week, I will be writing about one absolutely ridiculous thing that I overhear in public while at Mason.

If you hear something that you want included, please tweet it with the hash tag: #OverheardatMason.

We all have said equally embarrassing things, but this column serves as a reminder that location and timing are key to all stories.

As a last thought, I sincerely hope that you do not measure your sexual worth on the quality of your jeans.