When words give you away

This evening I committed one of the most annoying types of rationalization known to exist in the English language: the Denial Preface.

In its purest form, the Denial Preface is a dastardly device used most often by women when they are about to say something they shouldn't say, gossip, confide a secret they swore never to tell, or are trying to justify themselves:

"Not to hurt your feelings, but those pants make your ass look as big as the side of a barn."

"It's really not my place to say, but can you believe she slept with all those guys? Oh, you didn't know?"

"I don't mean to judge, but people like that should not be allowed to have children."

Men have been known to fall back on the Denial Preface when trying to communicate unpleasant truths to women without offending them: "Baby, I'm not saying you're not a good cook. It just might be nice one night to eat something that doesn't come out of a box."

Personally, I resorted to the Blanket Denial Preface: "I'm not meddling. Really, I promise I'm not."

But I was totally meddling. I butted into something that was none of my business.

In an attempt to make it right, though, I did call and admit my wrongdoing.

Not to pat myself on the back, but that was so cool of me.