The disadvantage to being honest is that it alienates. People are emotionally symbiotic; they want you to like the same things they like. My co-workers want me to like The Matrix. They defend Keanu Reeves: didn't I like Speed? My friends want me to like the bands they like; they want me come out with them in the evenings, to fulfill the obligation we have as 20-somethings. My supervisor wants me to like the 'war on terror'; he brought me a Wall Street Journal article detailing how colonialism squashed the Barbary Pirates. Men want me to like sleeping with women; and sometimes women want me to like it, too.
Maybe I'm sensitive because I don't like Keanu Reeves, and the idea of squandering two hours of my limited time on this planet with him and his runway-model, fetish-clad comedy troupe is more than I can bear--particularly when there is a load of laundry I could be doing instead. I'm not saying I'm above the Matrix; I'm not above anything, except a maybe respectable occupation.
