I thought about going on a basic rant against flakey folks, but let’s go Mr. Rogers on this joint. I would like to write a tribute to one of my friends who I will refer to as Honest Abe. Not bc his name starts with an ‘A’, but bc he’s honest. And it’s essential that I use cutesy names.
Is Honest Abe perfect? Heck no, Milo. He can err on the side of noncommitalism, and he can ping the ol’ Gallofeels when he rejects my super coveted, elite social invitations. But you know what? When this brochacho says he’s going to be somewhere, he’s there. And almost always on time. I actually trust in his word.
If you don’t see why this is praiseworthy, or even fantastically shocking, you obvs haven’t spent any time with male-lennials. They may be emotionally in-tune or heart-rendingly sensitive, but they are [mostly] complete man-children when it comes to the most SIMPLE of promises. When I can’t even trust a bro to be in a given location at a given time, why would I trust him with .. anything? Not my taxes, not my dog… def not my precious jewel of a heart.*
Oops, here I go being a negative Nance again..The point is—- Abe, thank you for not being a flake. Thank you for being so brutally honest that you can turn people down to their face. Thank you for being trustworthy. Thank you for shining like a bright diamond in a world of dull-dirt-rocks of Dishonest Daves.**
I salute you, Honest Abe.
— EDITORIAL NOTES —
*Mama sez my heart has jewelific qualities.
**No offense to Daves and Davids. It rhymed with Abe and was an alliteration. I couldn’t resist.
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