So apparently, research says that if you ask for forgiveness using long words, people are more likely to believe you. Big, complicated, sesquipedalian apologies (yes, I went there) supposedly sound smarter and more convincing.

But here’s the thing: if your apology has more syllables than a Shakespearean sonnet, I don’t trust it. Because at that point, it feels less like “I’m sorry” and more like “I’m sorry, but here’s another layer of nonsense to distract you.”

Me? I prefer simple. Clean. Direct. “I messed up. I’m sorry.” Done. If you start throwing in “heretofore” and “in light of the regrettable concatenation of circumstances,” I start side-eyeing you harder than a New Yorker hearing “this train is running local” at rush hour.

It’s the same way I feel about desserts. Sure, I can appreciate a 12-layer cake topped with spun sugar and gold leaf. But my heart? It belongs to the classics. Dutch crumb apple pie. Strawberry shortcake. Bread pudding. Bread pudding! Literal stale bread made into heaven. It doesn’t need fancy ingredients or linguistic gymnastics. It’s simple-ish, comforting, and real.

Maybe apologies should be like bread pudding. Made from what’s already there. Honest. A little rough around the edges, but undeniably heartfelt. Not some over-decorated confection hiding behind fondant and edible glitter.

So yes, the research may say people fall for the big words. But me? If you want my forgiveness, save the thesaurus. Keep it short and sweet. Like dessert.