I have little in the way of social skills. I couldn't pander or ingratiate if my life depended on it. This has a great deal of disadvantages, but it does at least mean that in dealing with me you can comfortably err on the side of optimism.

That is to say that if I have ever given the slightest indication that I don't strongly dislike you, you can be quite confident that I think you're pretty bloody fantastic. As Rudy van DiSarzio would say, you have passed the test. Feel free to say what you like to me. Provided that it's not about the global Jewish conspiracy, or how women should know their place, or something in that league of offensiveness (Ooh! Great idea for a comic book!), I'll take it in the spirit it's given, with due concession made to the fact that we're all dunderheads from time to time. I wish I could be more demonstrably affectionate towards my dear friends, but I'm pushing an envelope that's self-sealing.

So if you are in that arguably happy position, please, please, please do not hesitate to tell me when I have done something to offend you or anybody else. If I didn't mean to offend I'll be appropriately mortified and grateful for the opportunity to make amends. If I did, I'll be proud of the recognition. Just don't harbour a grudge in secret, or share it with somebody else, or swap it for something even more outrageous I did to them. I don't have the social skills to know what to do about that.

Let's keep it simple, sweetheart.