I should just keep my mouth shut.
I have this bizarre notion that people deserve truth.
Perhaps this is the last remaining glimmer of my twenty-something idealism, desperately clinging to life at the edge of a raw nerve.
I honestly believe that my doing anything less than be truthful with you is a disservice.
And that doesn’t jive with me.
You see, I can take you being angry with me.
Feel the need to voice your opinion? Go ahead!
Wanna chuck a burning toaster at my head? Why not?
Perhaps a conveniently located Plymouth moving forwards and backwards over my right foot will provide the necessary relief from tension, gained by my heartfelt but straightforward offering?
Knock yourself the fuck out.
Because I am a big boy. And I have big boy shoulders. And big boy pants to accommodate my big boy balls. And all of these attributes afford me the confidence, the wherewithal and the consideration to respect you enough to not yank your fucking chain. Even if it means hurting your feelings a little bit.
It does you no good. And it does me no good.
No matter what anyone ever says or ever feels about what you do, say or think, they should always be willing to admit that you were always honest.
And that you always knew where your towel was.