I won’t even tell you how long I’ve been trying to make this blog entry work. Suffice it to say, more than a week. Anyhow, let’s get this over with.
I’ve spent most of my adult life living in fear: fear of the unknown, fear of rejection, fear of being attacked by an albino clown. You know, nothing unusual. Why am I bringing this up? Well, a friend of mine was recently given an assignment to write an essay about what life would be like if she had no fear — which got me to thinking: What would my life be like without any fear?
Hmmm well, I suppose I would travel more. Not only would I not be afraid of flying, I wouldn’t have any fear of foreign diseases. Oh, and I’d certainly be more successful, since I would be better at public speaking. I suppose I’d go out more often, too. Heck, I might even start dating again. But before I’d do that, I’d have to ask a woman out.
I hear the safest way to ask a woman for a date is for you to refer to it as “hanging out.” It makes it seem less creepy. Like this: “Hey, I think you’re pretty cool. Maybe we could hang out sometime and have sex?” Personally, I think that’s a little too blunt. I’d probably go with something more like this: “Hey, we seem to get along pretty well. Would you be interested in exchanging bodily fluids?” Yeah, I might try that one—if I had no fear.
So after I picked up my date and we went back to my place, I’d tell her that I’d just like to get straight to the sex. But before we had sex, I would do an eight-ball of cocaine and chug down an entire bottle of whiskey. Then I would take out a chef’s knife, lay my hand on the table and proceed to rapidly stab between my fingers. I would then throw the knife up in the air and just let it land where it may. In this case, that would be my right arm—right into the bone. Ouch. A life without fear does not mean a life without pain.
Anyhow, after the sex (no protection, of course), I’d go out and get some sushi—the raw kind, not that pussy California-roll crap. But rather than pay for my sushi, I’d go in the alley behind the restaurant and dig out the stuff they threw out last night. I mean, I know it would make me sick, but I really wouldn’t care, since I had no fear.
After getting very sick on the sushi, I’d eat some more of it, then take off all my clothes and run onto the freeway. Of course, it wouldn’t take long for me to get hit by a car. And if the first one didn’t totally take me out of existence, I’d lie down across the road and watch as cars came rushing at me, never flinching or blinking my eyes.
Yeah, a life without fear might seem like a good idea at first. But when you really think about it, you’re much better off being a wimpy, snivelling coward like me.
See, if I had more fear, I wouldn’t have posted this crappy blog entry. I apologise. It seemed like such a great premise.
9 Comments