“Sorry, he’s just tired.”
“Sorry, he’s just trying to provoke discussion.”
“Sorry, he just thinks pet ownership is ecologically irresponsible.”
“Sorry, he just has a lot of ancestors in the Confederate army.”
“Sorry, he just put a lot of money into that whole Fyre Fest thing.”
“Sorry, he’s just very firm in the belief that no one should paint portraits anymore because we have cameras now.”
“Sorry, he’s just on edge because your voice sounds exactly like one of his exes.”
“Sorry, he’s just suffering from a bad bout of trypophobia, and your pores are really big.”
“Sorry, he’s just freaking out about his dissertation, he doesn’t usually get into screaming arguments about whether Werner Herzog documentaries are impressionistic.”
“Sorry, he’s just fiending on Adderall because his parents sold the house he grew up in last weekend and he’s riddled with sentimentality.”
“Sorry, he’s just a constitutional purist.”
“Sorry, he just really likes Michel Houellebecq.”
“Sorry, he just doesn’t believe in the concept of mansplaining. I don’t think he was rolling his eyes at you.”