Monday Dare: Choose your own adventure, dummy

Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. You can click on the link if you’d like to see the complete list of Monday Dares or learn more about its origin.

This week: Learn the easy way

I’m the densest motherfucker I know. I don’t mean that my protons and neutrons and that-other-thing-I-cannot-remember-the name-of are packed tightly together, making me strong and impenetrable. (Side note: Let my ignorance be a warning to your children. Pay attention in class.) (Second side note: Is it proton or protron?) (Third side note: Please remember my first side note.)

I’m not Strong Dense. I’m Learn the Hard Way Dense. Every little bit of know-how and knowledge I’ve scraped together is a result of the poor choices I’ve made. When given an option, I always pick the one that tastes like a bad decision.

As a kid, I started borrowing Choose Your Own Adventure books from the library instead of buying them because I always ended up dead or trapped in a dark and dank pit. I would use the money I saved to buy large bags of Funyuns to console myself. Emotional Eating Due to Pretend Death or Entrapment-it’s a real thing. Word on the street is that there are 40 or more possible adventure paths per book. Good for you, Careful Choice Makers. Must be nice to be all alive and shit after solving the Mission of Molowa or breaking the Curse of the Pirate Mist.

Familiar with poor outcomes at an early age, I continued the same pattern of picking the worst choices as an adult. Does this option burn, bite, sting, or cause a bruise to my body or psyche? Then, yes please. I’m a glutton for punishment and a master of learning things the hard way. I will close my ears when friends start giving me advice. Fuck that shit, I think, I know best.

This attitude is probably why, in my single days, I ended up in some asshole’s apartment lobby with my bags and no place to go.

Cletus and I got into a fight over fried chicken. Well, it started out as a discussion about what to eat for dinner, but it turned into an argument when a friend called to ask what Cletus was doing. He pretended to be alone and said he had no plans for the evening, even though I had just traveled several hundred miles to see him and would be staying with him for a week. When I confronted him, he shrugged it off and said I was being sensitive. I started packing my bags out of anger. I don’t know why, since I had no place to go and knew no one else in the city. For ten minutes, as I packed up, he sat on the couch and watched me, not saying a single word. My pride took over and I actually walked out of Cletus’s place. I sat in the lobby for half an hour, weighing my options.

Then, I saw a Domino’s Pizza delivery guy. He called a unit for access into the building. Guess who’s voice was on the other side of the call? Yes, you are correct. In the half hour that I had been in the lobby, Cletus had ordered a pizza. I did what I thought was best. I called Cletus to apologize for my irrational and sensitive behavior. We stayed together for months afterwards. After each fight, I would apologize. My friends said he was a motherfucker. I didn’t listen. I stayed until he brushed me aside for someone else.

I’ve always been pretty content to root around in the filth of my insecurities and shortcomings. I’m dense! That’s just me! I need to learn the hard way! 

No, dummy, that’s not how sanity works. I’m giving myself permission to learn from others’ mistakes instead of making all of them on my own. I deserve a break.

Do you need to learn the hard way? Has it gotten you into any particularly memorable binds?
Ever apologized just to keep the peace?

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Monday Dare: Are you dating a mofo? An assessment checklist

Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. You can click on the link if you’d like to see the complete list of Monday Dares or learn more about its origin.

This week: Dish out dating advice. (Disclaimer: I’m not an expert in this field. Well, maybe I am. I have, after all, dated every sad loser on this side of the Prime Meridian.)

It’s weird to write about dating since I haven’t been in the dating game for a minute. I’ve forgotten the fine art of giving out my phone number and then waiting and sometimes staring at my cell phone, willing it to ring. Ok, that’s a lie…that shit is burned into my brain the way an image of a fat man in super small stretched-out Speedos running along the rocky sand of a cold dirty Los Angeles beach still gives me chills at night.

I have a lot of single girlfriends. Some are single by choice. Others are single by chance. And I talk to all of them about what it’s like to navigate the Frosty Waters of Dating.

I find myself holding my tongue a lot. Mostly because I’ve found that when a girlfriend is sprung on some new flavor of the week, no amount of levelheaded advice is going to get through to them, but also because there is a very slim (VERY SLIM) chance I could be wrong about this new shady-ass motherfucker. I’m all about chances. Ok, no, that’s a lie too. I’m not all about chances. I’m just all about keeping my friends because if you’re dubbed The Nagger Friend, then you’re pretty much on The Outs when it comes to all the good gossip, and let’s be real here….I fucking live for gossip. In fact, if you have some juicy news you want to spread, just email me. It’s Monday. I could use a little bit of sparkle in my life.

I dig checklists. They’re simple. Throw an article at me about String Theory, and I won’t be able to digest one word. But put the same information in a checklist and I’ll rattle off the basics of theoretical physics like it’s the plot line from my favorite Nicholas Sparks movie. Don’t hate. That Nicholas is a motherfucking pimp.

Are You Dating an Asshole? An Assessment Checklist:

1. Is he saying things that would normally alarm a rational thinking person?

Most of the time, men tell you exactly what they mean. Really, they do. Sometimes, it’s a little indistinguishable because the alcohol is making them slur or they’re coming down from a really bad cocaine binge, so you have to smash the phone really hard into your ear and walk into your closet to hear the under-enunciated words. But if he’s saying it, you should probably listen. Phrases to watch out for include: “You’re not the one for me,” or “I don’t know what I’m doing with you here,” or “I can’t really accept who you are.” I’ve heard all of those lines said to me at one point or another. Guess what I did? I just ignored that shit and kept right on. And guess what happened? Nothing. Because eventually, the words become louder and totally unavoidable and before you know it, you’re watching the Academy Awards and you see your man walking down the red carpet with another girl on his arm who isn’t you and you’re thinking….”Wait just a minute here….”

If you hear any of these things being said to you, RUN. Seriously, just put on those flip flops and get the fuck out of there as fast as you can, girl. You’ll thank me later. Trust me.

2. Are you a secret? Is he a secret? 

Step back and honestly assess this shit, friends. Are you pretty much a nonexistent entity in his life except behind closed doors? Do his friends even know you exist? He doesn’t need to make paper flyers declaring his interest, but if you’re not on his public radar, then you’re probably only on his pubic radar.

Conversely, are you ashamed to tell your friends about him? Maybe he’s immersed in a whole bunch of questionable or illegal activities. Maybe he’s been to jail. Now, I’m not saying everyone who’s been to jail is a bad person. Frankly, I’m a little surprised I haven’t spent some time there myself, but I figure it’s only a matter of time before I’m known to my community as Inmate 217 (which, coincidentally, used to be my pager code because “217” is “Liz” upside down and backwards. I know, I have way too much time on my hands).

3. Is it one-sided? 

Does he ever ask you about your day? Is it all about his happiness? Does he even give a fuck about how you feel…about anything? You don’t have to think too long about these questions. It’s obvious and apparent when someone has an interest in you and your well-being. Maybe he remembers to ask about work when he knows you’re having a stressful day. Maybe he asks you about your family when he knows some shit is going down, and you’re secretly devastated on the inside, but you’re doing that whole martyr front so you look all strong and grown-up on the outside.

4. Does the motherfucker not call you?

Maybe you’re the one making all the effort. Who’s calling whom? Are you trying to know someone who only bothers to talk to you Monday- Friday while he’s spending those tortured hours at work, and he can’t watch porn on the company computer so he asks you to send him a little picture here and there to pass the time?

5. Do all of his ex-girlfriends hate the shit out of him? 

Look, if you’re talking to someone who had to change his home address, phone number or place of employment after a relationship because the newest person he fucked over happens to want him dead, then he’s probably not right for you. Sure, you can kid yourself and claim that you’re going to be the one to change him, but let’s be real…who has that kind of time these days? I don’t even have a fucking dog because I can’t tame an animal. I sure as hell don’t see what kind of wonder-woman has the time, patience and wherewithal to change a man-child. Don’t be delusional.

If you answered “yes” to ANY of these questions, then you should probably do this:

RUN LIKE THE WIND, BITCH, RUN LIKE THE WIND.

What did I miss? Ever dated an asshole?

P.S. I think of stupid things and post them on an almost daily basis on the Flourish in Progress Facebook page. “Like” the page to feel smarter than at least one person every day.

P.P.S. If this post resonates with you, I’m really sorry about that because clearly you’ve dated a motherfucker. Please share the post so we spare other bitches from going through the same thing.
image via lettercult.com