A former friend had this air about him. As if he invented atheism. I would have told him about a couple of atheists I knew who had much fuller voices, but back then I didn't want him to feel doggone down. See, whenever he's doggone down, he realizes that he's not the center of the world and begins to ask endlessly about my opinion, even take them to task. So, no. He was better off thinking himself the very center. Less irritable that way. You see, there was this one time when he was down, and (as authentic as puppies go) he said, "I'm a rebel. Everybody's supposed to love a rebel, right?"
It was too long ago, so I don't recall if this was a beer-inspired answer: "Don't ask for love, man. It's just not fair." But it was an honest answer, and my occasional honesty ranks number three in my list of why I lose friends. Number four is their silence takes up too much space. Number two is my all-time favorite simile: like I care.