When your perfectly nice if a bit nosy neighbor offers you cuttings from her forsythia bush, and you don't want to offend said neighbor but also LOATHE forsythia with loathing that churns sickeningly in your stomach, what do you say?
Scenario #1: Brutal Evasive Honesty: "Hi neighbor! No, I don't want forsythia cuttings, thanks! Yes, I'm sure it's no trouble. I just FUCKING HATE FUCKING FORSTYTHIA is all! Pleasure to see you!"
Result: Neighbor is offended and thinks you hate her forsythia, when in reality you just hate all forsythia.
Scenario #2: Gentle Evasive Honesty: "Hi neighbor! No, I don't want forsythia cuttings, thanks! Yes, I'm sure it's no trouble. I just have never been a big fan of forsythia. Nope, really! Yes, I know it's not that hard to grow. Yes, I'll agree that the yellow flowers are splendid. Yes, I'm sure it would grow nicely over there by the fence. BUT I FUCKING HATE FUCKING FORSYTHIA! Pleasure fo see you!"
Result: Neighbor is offended and thinks you hate her forsythia, when in reality you just hate all forsythia.
See? Both of these scenarios bring about the very same result: an offended neighbor. Now I ask in all seriousness, is the following scenario an improvement?
Scenario #3: Letting the Neighbor See a bit of The Crazy: "Hi neighbor! No, I don't want forsythia cuttings, thanks! Yes, I'm sure it's no trouble. It's just that FORSYTHIA IS THE FLOWER OF THE DEAD! THE DEAD! DEAD PEOPLE! I SEE DEAD PEOPLE IN THE FORSYTHIA!"
Result: Neighbor runs away screaming, but does not feel that her forsythia is in any way lacking. Which it isn't, it's the most lovely forsythia I've ever seen, assuming of course that it's possible for forsythia to be lovely, which of course it isn't.
Finally, this brings us to the next scenario, the one in which I show the neighbor a bit of my tormented, (crazy!), endearing soul.
Scenario #4: Waaaay Too Much Information: "Hi neighbor! No, I don't want forsythia cuttings, thanks! Yes, I'm sure it's no trouble. It's just that for me, forsythia will always be the flowers I saw, stained amber from the windows of the cold black limousine, when we were on the way to the cemetary to bury (insert names of various dead people here). So it tends to make me feel a bit queasy. That's all! Yours are lovely, though! Pleasure to see you!"
Result: Neighbor knows her forsythia is lovely, but pities me because I am Crazy. And maybe is concerned for my son, having to grow up in a godless, forsythia-free home.
Stupid neighbor and her stupid green thumb.
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