Today my friend called me a "cheap bastard." I was offended. Not because he called me cheap--I know I'm cheap. As I consider what to write, I dearly clutch my glass of hot water to warm my fingers instead of cranking up the heat to 65. It's the term "bastard" to which I object. It just grates me the wrong way when coming from certain people.

I've never been big on swearing--except that brief phase in high school I thought swearing was the most efficient way to express my feelings. Back then, the youthful angst had nowhere to go other than out my potty mouth. Of course, never in the presence of parents; for them I reserved kinder phrases. But with my (lone) friend, it was fuck this, fuck that. I felt that these words were so far removed from their literal meanings that they held not connotations of visceral lust but connotations of strong discontent, pure and simple.

I guess I've matured enough to realize that, while my mind seldom evokes literal images of such swears, they have sufficient negative value to warrant their disuse. I tolerate people who are casual profaners though. I understand it's a choice and I was once on their side. But from people who don't normally swear, any such vulgarity seems to have a particularly harsh sting to it. Even if it is true.