Dear Friend …

Dear Friend,

Please don’t worry if you’re at my house and need to ask to use the plunger. We’ve all been there.

Please tell me if I’ve got something in my nose. I’d do the same for you. (Just tell me quietly so no one else can hear.)

Please feel free to tell me you don’t like mushrooms, either before you come over, or even right before I’ve made you mushroom lasagna. The mushroom might take it personally, but I won’t.

If you have a zit, it is very, VERY likely that you are the only one who notices it. (Humans are used to editing out unnecessary information in their daily lives; we don’t care if you have a tiny blemish. If we do, it is in a relieved, “I’m so glad other people get blemishes too” kind of way.)

Same goes for bad hair days. You are your hair’s own worst critic. (And your outfit’s, and your butt’s, and your arms’, etc. etc. etc.)

Just because I haven’t called doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about you. Facebook makes this worse; we learn about each other often passively without interacting. We should change this.

Dear friend, that is all.

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