Alice Roosevelt Longworth, President Teddy Roosevelt’s daughter, had a pillow in her upstairs sitting room with the following statement embroidered on it: “If you can’t say something good about someone, sit right here by me.”

I don’t own an embroidered pillow (and I seem to have misplaced my upstairs sitting room), but I have always loved this statement.

The reason I have always loved it may surprise you.

I don’t advocate saying bad things about people for the sake of whatever jaundiced joy you get out of saying bad things about people.

We all have acquaintances, family members and coworkers who talk badly about nearly everyone they know behind their backs and this sort of behavior always makes me think, “What is she saying about ME when I am not around?”

People who speak badly about everyone behind their backs also tend to be incorrigible gossips so you really don’t want to try to run rings around them in the “unkindest cut of all” department, lest it come around and bite you in the behind.

Translation: People who enjoy saying bad things about others behind their backs also enjoy spreading around the bad things they heard you say.

As a matter of fact, I will go so far as to claim that this quote isn’t even about enjoying saying bad things about people, despite those words appearing on that pillow pretty much verbatim.

What I think this quote is about is the nature of true friendship.

I have a friend I have known for 30 years, and we spend a little time each week complaining.

Yes, some of that complaining involves people about which we cannot in that moment think of anything good to say.

But mostly what we complain about is our age-related infirmities, activities we no longer enjoy or are no longer able to enjoy but which we used to enjoy very much, and things marketed as improvements that are not improvements at all in our estimation.

You know. Typical old man stuff.

We don’t pretend to each other that anything we’re saying is inspired or earth-shattering. We have never invited the editor of Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations to sit in on a session.

But we do try to make each other laugh, which involves making an effort to say the same things in different ways from week to week.

The way we complain feels healthy and helpful.

Peruse pundits of various stripes on the internet, whether they be psychologists or business experts or spiritual gurus, and you will find that most of them are against complaining.

“Don’t do it,” they say. “It is harmful to your health, reputation and relationships. Try to be grateful instead. Try to be solution minded.”

This is all wonderful advice, and I can’t really complain about it.

Or can I?

Would it be reasonable to complain about the apparently widespread belief among pundits that all complaining is created equal?

Do they mean to suggest that whining is the same as venting, that bitching is the same as moaning?

Where did they learn about complaining? Out of some book?

Well, I learned about it on the streets!

There are as many kinds of complaining as Inuits have words for snow and as Icelandic people have foods that are fermented underground.

If you didn’t know, all their foods are fermented underground, which gives you an idea about how many kinds of complaining there are.

What makes some complaining acceptable and some complaining unacceptable?

Talent and skill.

Complaining is like any sort of tricky stagecraft – throwing knives at a so-called “target girl,” riding a moped in the Globe of Death and juggling chainsaws that you grabbed out of the hands of lumberjacks who were in the midst of trying to cut down trees with them. Do it right and it can be very entertaining. Do it wrong and it can be mildly annoying. Or worse.

Talented complainers are some of my favorite people. And people who never complain about anything give me the creeps, to be perfectly honest.

Get good at complaining is my advice. Learn to tell engaging, self-aware stories about the things that are bugging you. Make people want to hear you complain. Make them beg.

And (getting back to the pillow analogy) find a safe space to practice your complaining.

(Writer’s note: I will not entertain any complaints about my use of the term “safe space” at this time).

Alice Roosevelt Longworth wasn’t saying “Let’s say bad things about people” with her pillow. She was saying, “You can be yourself when you’re in my company. Trust me. I have been through hell and back. My father was turned into a stuffed animal.”

A true friend doesn’t keep reminding you that you have to try to be positive all the time.

You don’t need that sort of negativity in your life.