The Pretty Reckless

Tell us, friends, what's the most reckless thing you've ever done?

Today is 6/9. That is all.

I wouldn't call myself a particularly risky person. No, it's more like, I do something dumb without thinking about it and later I think, "wow, that could have ended really badly." Like the time(s) in Chicago when Mary and I walked to Lake Michigan at 4 AM and sat at the edge of the dark water, our feet dangling over the water, flip-flops hanging precariously off of our feet, a bag of beer that we bought on the way sitting between us. We'd watch the sunrise and I once stumbled upon a couple in the midst of a sexual encounter, because the noises they were making sounded like frogs and HEY I wanted to see some frogs. How neither of us ever fell in the lake or ended up being murdered is a mystery to me.

I don't think those times count because I wasn't willingly being reckless, it just happened on account of all the stupidity and the beer. The most willingly reckless thing I've done is put my heart up for sale on these here internets. I'm actually pretty reckless with my affections, handing them out all wily nily, and my affection, once given, is very, very difficult to get rid of. It's possible, of course, but you really have to be a dick about it. In any case, I suppose if I hadn't been so reckless with my heart, I never would have joined Match all those years ago and I wouldn't currently be spending my evenings doubled over with laughter with Joe, which is ALSO reckless because one of these days, one of us is going to actually STOP BREATHING and I hear that's, like, not good for you and stuff.

Also, one time my friends and I jumped the fence to other-friend's pool to go night-swimming after all-day-drinking. That wasn't just reckless because I almost drowned but also because if other-friend found out that we had snuck into the pool, after she told NOT to many, many times, she would have LITERALLY killed us.

Pointless artifacts, a mediocre past.

I am what they call risk averse, but like ridiculously so, to the point where I should be called RISK AVERSE!!! all big and screamy like that lest you mistake me for someone who would ever, at any time, willingly take a risk. In fact, the riskiest thing I've done in a great long while I did this past weekend, while drinking wine and eating dinner with my boyfriend. The television was on, and during some random Corona commercial I looked up from my plate and totally recognized the dude lounging shirtless on the beach, but I couldn't quite remember what I'd seen him in before. And before it even really truly registered what I'd recognized him from I blurted out, "I HAVE TOTALLY MADE OUT WITH THAT GUY." Because I had. In college. Senior year. At and/or near The Boot.

In future I think I will refrain from hollering such things over the dinner table.

it's looking like a limb torn off

I've done a lot of reckless things--writing a very personal blog under my real, full name comes to mind--but I tend to shrug them off as par for the course. But! One time I did something really really really stupid.

I saw a mama bear and two cubs trolling the Yosemite Valley Floor campgrounds in the early morning hours. It's not rare, but it's very dangerous and that's why you have to put all your food and crumbies and trash and colorful things into the steel bear lockers every night. And then you're supposed to hide. FROM THE BEARS.

But I was freezing cold (it was only 2 degrees Fahrenheit once the sun came up) and trying to jog around to keep myself breathing and there they were being a cute bear family and the cubbies were wittle and fluffy and they were just looking for some foods. Just sooo cute. And so instead of getting back in my tent or getting in my car and driving far away, I started following them. Bad idea alert. But look! So cute!

Danger is my business.

Hi, you guys! Hi! Sorry we’ve been on a bit of a hiatus. I take full responsibility again, on account of I dropped the ball two weeks in a row because -- well, honestly, the first time was work deadlines and the second time I was at Six Flags riding about one bajillion roller coasters. Which, by the way, is a perfect segue to the thing we’re talking about this week: What’s the most reckless thing you’ve ever done?

Pretty much once a week, Amy and Jenn take it in turns to tell me I don’t have any kind of survival instinct, all, “I mean, you’ve heard of the Darwin Awards, right?”

And it’s true. I do some really reckless shit, physically and emotionally. But it never feels reckless, even in retrospect. But let me tell you something that DID feel reckless. When I was at Six Flags last week, I rode a roller coaster called The Superman, and I thought for SURE it was going to kill me. The coaster track isn’t anything special, but the way they lock you in, it’s like you’re flying, and I seriously nearly pissed my pants when the feet restraints clamped my legs into position and the coaster tilted us forward.

(And I mean, I LOVE roller coasters. Love them, love them, love them. There were hardly any lines last week, and I rode The Batman like six times in a row.)

Anyway, whatever. The Superman scarred me for life.

See, it looks like this:

And then like this:


When we finished, the teenage dudes in front of us started chanting, “One more time! One more time! One more time!” And then we got off the coaster and I punched them in the nuts.

Like a superhero.