Blunt

When I was in college my friend Mike used to say that I never knew how to keep my opinions to myself.

The thing is I spent most of my childhood surrounded by people who made an art form of talking behind people’s back. Actually, they brought it to new levels. Imagine three girls in a ski slope. Let’s name them Jill, Mary and Anne. Together, they’re a bunch of giggles and hugs. But, as Jill and Mary share a ride up the hill, they talk about Anne’s new boyfriend and how he’s sleeping around and how they think Anne is such a moron for not noticing what everyone knows. The next round, Mary and Anne take the ride up the hill as they talk about Jill’s new haircut and how she looks like a rat with her nose job. Finally, Anne and Jill, as they sit together, talk about how Mary will never have the fashion sense they do. I kid you not; these are the kids I had the fortune of growing up with.

Me? I was the lowest of the low. Nicknames? I got them all. Trust me.

Why didn’t I stop hanging around these people? Cuz I’m a wimp.

I have this amazing need to make sure everyone likes me. The thing is I know that it’s impossible to have everyone like you. I don’t like everyone.

After all these years and many better friends later, I still hate it when I hear someone talking behind my back. I hate being someone’s inside joke.

If you have a problem with me, just tell me. This is good for both of us. I get to find out what about me might be annoying you and I can choose to fix it or I can choose not to associate with you any longer. It all depends on what the thing is. You have benefits, too. If I fix it, all is good and if I don’t, well you don’t have to worry since I won’t be around.

I just don’t understand what good it does to tell someone else about issues you might have about me. If I snort when I laugh or blow my nose in a way that gets on your nerves, what’s your friend Lily gonna do to fix it?

What good does it do to bitch and moan behind my back and smile to my face?

That’s what I hate most. The fake people. It must be a present from my childhood friends. I’d so much rather know what I’m dealing with than have a million false smiley faces.

I may be crass, but when you’re my friend, you always get pure honesty.

Previously? Remorse.