Tonight Sugar Daddy and I are supposed to go play laser tag with some friends.  I’m not particularly looking forward to it.  In point of fact, I’m sort of dreading it.  I’ve never played laser tag and have never had any interest in laser tag, but when SD asked if I wanted to go play laser tag with these other people, I knew I couldn’t say “no” without making him sad.  As I confessed yesterday, I dislike saying “no” to anyone but my children and possibly the government.  (I’m a Republican, you know, Party of No and all that, or so I hear.)  This is why I’m opposed to my husband asking me to do things I don’t want to do.

Before you go telling me how fun laser tag is, let me assure you that I’ve already heard what great fun it is.  I assume from the outset that it is fun because people do go and do it “for fun,” as opposed to doing it “for the money” or “for the prestige.”  So no one has to tell me that it’s fun.  That is just a given.  What you need to understand, if you are new to this blog, is that I am not fun.  Fun and I have compatibility issues.  Things that other people find fun I tend to find a) stressful, b) boring, and/or c) depressing.  I am especially un-fond of activities that require speed, agility, coordination, strategy, and teamwork, because they remind me of gym class.

I didn’t like gym class, in case you are slow and needed to be told that explicitly.  I specifically didn’t like the “fun” aspect, i.e. the playing of games–because I do not enjoy things that are exciting and/or things that can be won or lost.  I am already a consistent loser in the macro realm; I don’t need this identity confirmed ad infinitum in the micro realm.  I especially don’t like to be the person who is responsible for an entire team losing.  Do you remember when I said I don’t like telling people “no”?  Well, being on a team, for me, is like having to tell a bunch of people “no” all at once.  The team wants to win.  I, as the least competent individual on the team, always have to say, “No.”  As in, “No, you may not win if your strategy involves relying upon my efforts in any way whatsoever.  Sorry.  Good luck, though.”  (No one appreciates that last part, by the way.  All they hear is the “no.”)

Unfortunately, I can’t use the same strategy at laser tag that I used through three years of high school gym, i.e. stand on the periphery, avoid the teacher’s gaze and keep my face out of the way of stray balls until the 55 minutes are up.  I just have this feeling that a) laser tag doesn’t lend itself to peripheral engagement, and b) my husband is more vigilant than any of my former gym teachers.  So I’m just going to have to psych myself up and go with the flow, I guess, whatever that means.

Would you like to know something else, totally unrelated, that I don’t enjoy?  Arranging play dates for my children.  I only mention that because I’ve been putting off phoning the mother of one of my son’s friends, and now I have to go do it or die.  Or something.  So I guess I’ll go do that.  Although, if I were dead, I would not have to go play laser tag tonight.  Tune in tomorrow to see what I chose.

(P.S.  If you don’t see me here tomorrow, don’t assume I am dead.  I’m probably just too lazy to post.)

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