That’s my belief, too: the idea that the apology is a sacred rite, that apologizing involves prostrating yourself before the world, is weird to me.
Yes, sometimes that’s what an apology does. If I lose my temper and say something deeply cruel to a coworker, then I need to go to that coworker, explain that what I did was wrong, that I am truly repetant, and that I’ll do what they need me to do to make the situation better. But that’s only one type of apology.
There’s also the apology for inadvertant harm caused. I might tell a joke that involves somoene plunging off a skyscraper to his death, only to find out that a listener’s husband committed suicide last week by jumping off a building. In this case, I need to give a huge, deeply felt apology, and then shut up about it, even though I had no way of knowing that my actions were going to hurt the friend.
There’s also the apology for slight slights. I might begin speaking in a converation at the same time as someone else; if I’ve been speaking more than them, I might smile, say “sorry, go on,” and let them talk. No sackcloth or ashes are involved; no sacred rite is undertaken.
And there’s one type of conditional apology that I think is appropriate. I’m joking around with someone, teasing banter, but I’m feeling hungry and cranky. Later, after I’ve eaten, I think back to the teasing, and wonder whether I crossed the line between teasing and insulting. So I say, “Hey, I’m sorry if I was being cranky earlier.” If I wasn’t, the person can tell me, and all’s good; if I was, then they can know that I regret having been cranky and insulting, and they won’t resent me.
The key is that in these cases, I’m not a great judge of my own behavior, and so my conditional apology allows someone else to give me feedback.
Daniel