I Wish Men Would Get Their Period And Other Dilemmas I Face Daily


So, check it. I’m an anxiety dreams kinda gal. You know, the type of broad who really internalizes every insult thrown her way, who harbors long-repressed fears and anxieties, rather than facing them. In my dreams, I tend to act out some of my most obscure, but nonetheless very real and horrifying fears. In fact, this morning I woke up a tad more sweaty and tense than usual. Like most of my dreams every night of my life, a world teeming with anarchy and trench warfare figured prominently. Except this time, as I was abandoning the plunging plane to conduct the obligatory landing by parachute, I was carrying a child. And not just any child, but seemingly my own, and a newborn. The fact that the father was unbeknownst to me didn’t seem to factor into my concerns. I like to think I was acting out some deeply repressed feelings—whether rooted in fear or desire. In other words, if this really happened, would it be wrong? Which got me thinking about some other “wrong” or “taboo” things I do and think about.

I don’t care about Internet trolls

Should I? Because I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t. I will admit that yes, at first, I was a little put off. But you guys are fun! You also don’t know me at all and build all of your opinions on baseless assumptions. To me, you’re just a number. Is that wrong?

I wish men would get their period

Funny story. One time, I was away in Europe with an ex boyfriend and found myself lying face down in a single bathroom stall located in an offensively touristy restaurant. I learned then what it feels like to have hardened pee pressed up against my cheek. Why was I lying on the floor, you may ask? Well—surprise surprise!—it was not of my own volition, but rather a response to my murderous cramps. (This story isn’t meant to disenchant. I’m telling you this so you can learn from my ex’s reaction.) The entire time, he stood outside the bathroom door, telling me to hurry up. Not only that, but: “You’re embarrassing yourself.” I couldn’t fathom his insensitivity. Still, to this day, it makes me seethe with anger. Which is why I want all men, everywhere, to get their period. Is that wrong?

Sometimes I think: what would life be like without procreating? And a feeling of ecstasy washes over me

Is it just me, or does thinking about having kids make all women’s minds go to—not envisioning fun family activities or awesome family banter, but: what will my vagina look like and/or will I survive labor? I already mentioned I’m an anxiety dreams kinda gal, but you should also know that I’m a 2-lb-free-weights-kinda gal too. I have a low threshold for pain, and I need to take a Xanax prior to every pap smear. The dread of childbirth may just convince me to do away with the whole family thing altogether. Is that wrong?

I recently downloaded that Instafollow app, where you see who has unfollowed you on Instagram

In theory, it would seem that yes, this is blatantly uncool. More importantly, it’s also quite the boner killer. I mean, it’s definitely not a confident booster if that’s what you’re asking. But is it wrong?

I hate cats

I’ve never liked cats. And I’m pretty sure those hermetic creatures have always been able to sniff out my aversion to them, which makes them even more hostile and unlikeable in my eyes. It’s a cycle. And don’t think for one second that this whole cats being trendy thing has lessened my hatred for them. It’s just made me hate them more. Is that wrong?

I eat in bed

Whenever I’m brainstorming future memoir titles, I always end up at the same place: eating in bed. You know, Nutella On my Pillowcase and Other Sticky Situations—something like that. There’s nothing worse than sleeping in a bed full of crumbs—you ain’t gotta tell me that twice because, trust me, I know it. But still, I cant stop. Every time I make myself a chicken fajita I can hear my bed softly beckoning me, summoning me, “You know what’s even better than eating a chicken fajita? Eating it under your 500 thread count comforter, with your head nestled on your pillow.” Tell me, is that so wrong?

When someone faints on me, my first reaction is to run

What can I tell you? I don’t have that doctor gene. So sue me. No? You don’t want to? That wouldn’t hold up in court? Oh okay, phew. So does that mean I won’t get in trouble for that time at Lollapalooza when a woman standing in front of me fainted directly into my arms and my immediate impulse was to flee the scene? I could hear my best friend (starting med school at Yale right now, mind you) instinctively calling out for EMT as I ran straight for the burrito stand. But seriously though. Is that wrong?

I kill bugs in a creepy way

I’ve always had an irrational fear of bugs, which was working out for me just fine until I moved into an apartment alone. Now, when I see bugs and there’s no one around to kill the bug while I stand on my bed for 5 hours, I’m forced to become creative. Recently, my technique has been as follows: drown the bug in Windex (or any toxic cleaning solution), which won’t kill the bug but oh will it slow that thing down! Then go in for the kill. Wrong?

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