This Wasn't Planned

This wasn’t planned.

There was no strategy session. No brand board. No roadmap taped to the wall.

I was standing around one night waiting for my wife, Candy, to finish work. I had some time, a cocktail, and a phone in my hand. I recorded a short video—nothing special—and at the very end, almost without thinking, I said:

“Shut up and love your neighbor… cheers.”

That was it. Seriously. You can check it out here if you’re curious.

No buildup. No intention for it to become anything beyond a cocktail. And not even a complicated one.

When people started responding, they reached out to Candy (she thought I was just downstairs talking to myself) and asked the obvious questions:

Was that planned?
Is that something he’s always said?
Is this Dave’s new thing?

The answer to all of it was the same: no.

But here’s the part that surprised me—I’d felt it for a long time. It wasn’t new. It was internal. Part of me.

For years, I had the hashtag #shutupandlovesomebody quietly sitting on my Facebook profile. Five years, to be exact. No one noticed. And honestly, I didn’t think much about it either. It was just something that felt true, even if I couldn’t fully articulate why. With every passing tragedy or cultural shift, the voice inside me responded with the same words.

Turns out timing matters.
So does specificity.

At some point, “somebody” became “your neighbor.”
And that shift changed everything.

I genuinely love people. Not in a vague, Hallmark-card way—but in a curious, observant, sometimes complicated way. I find people fascinating. Every one of us is shaped by experiences no one else fully sees. We’re all navigating our own stories, carrying regrets, learning from mistakes we wish we’d handled differently.

I’ve been guilty of honking or yelling at someone on the road—someone going too slow in the fast lane—without ever stopping to consider that they might be having the worst day of their life.

There are no perfect people.
No perfect journeys.
No perfect lives.

And pretending otherwise only creates distance and division.

Somewhere along the way, we started confusing volume with courage. We talk more, post more, react faster—often before taking the time to understand the human being on the other side of the conversation.

“Shut up” isn’t a command to be silent.
It’s an invitation to pause.

To listen longer than feels comfortable.
To choose curiosity over certainty.
To love people without needing to win the moment.

This idea didn’t arrive fully formed. It wasn’t polished. It wasn’t marketed into existence.

It showed up the way most honest things do—unexpectedly, quietly, and at just the right time.

If only one shirt from this shop is ever sold—but it starts one conversation or changes one perspective—mission accomplished.

This wasn’t planned.

But it was needed.  It started by accident but it's being done on purpose.

And if it resonates with you, maybe that’s not an accident. This is a message people seem to need.
Will you help me share it?

Talk less.
Listen longer.
Love your neighbor.