I have a sick addiction to the results of working out. I always try to imagine the feeling of eating something super unhealthy while at the same time feeling a muscle that is getting more defined. And the muscle or visible bone always wins. Brad said the same thing. Aight, Brad, I see you. I really can find something to agree on with just about anyone. And now I sit here and try and think of someone I cannot…I like finding things in common with people though, I find joy in the challenge it sometimes is, and the bleakness revealed in whatever it ends up being. Like greatttttt, we both like music, sunshine, and food. This is not even a joke. I got into a relationship with someone I should not have gotten into one with to begin with, and when I worked really hard to get out of it, I said dude, we dont even have anything in common. He began to list off things we do have in common, and it was pretty much a list of things needed to fucking survive as a human. I let him know it was cool we both breathe oxygen but I was going to need to breathe different air than him. That was until I got stranded in another state and needed a non-dramatic person to get me home. You know, the kind that points out basic needs to survive. I had zero at the time, and I knew he was just the man for the job.

I am at heart an up-for-anything kind of person. In recent years it has been brought to my attention I have a rather large stick lodged in my nether region, but I am actively working on dislodging this, one kiwi at a time. There was a person I knew through another person for quite some time. He seemed reasonable, very normal, outgoing, and together enough to create success in a multitude of ways for himself. Years passed and a call came asking me to get on a plane to come and visit. I said why the fuck not?! There ended up being many reasons why the fuck not. One, I am not as impressive in person as I am over some form of technology. Don’t act so fucking surprised when the quality you are already tasting over technology is that of a rough-edged shit head. It does not get better, I promise. I instantly did not feel the vibe with him in person. So I was not funny at all. And as we all now know, I am the funniest person I know (I cannot remember if I have ever told this story, although I am sure I have already repeated others…). I barely spoke as soon as I got into his car. I squirmed through our lunch and dreaded the fact that I was going to be stuck with him for a weekend in the mountains. I locked myself in the bathroom, took a bunch of ridiculous “help me” selfies, and sent them to my girlfriend. Let me just say this, I packed my usual grandma attire. I loaded up on flannel PJs from Gap, not silk and lace for this man. I had no intentions of anything happening at all, I thought we were going to get to know each other and find out if we both breathed oxygen and liked sunshine too. This motherfucker breathed something alright. 

After lunch, we checked in to our resort and spent the remainder of the day just walking around shopping, eating, and drinking. Aspen was like, yes ma’am you are a glorious snob as I went on to grope statues and shoot whiskey with pickle juice chasers. See, I used to be up for anything. I was fucking miserable in this man’s company. And when I am miserable and trapped, I will undoubtedly make you fucking miserable in return. He just kept commenting on how I was so much different than he expected and asked me to perform comedy skits for him. Like I am scripted, have an on or off switch, and put on for someone who clearly just wanted me to put out. Sounds like more than half of my ex-bosses’ expectations too. Fuck. That. I am genuine. I cannot hide my emotions, nor fake them. Hence the reason for my nervous laughter at the most inopportune times. This dude and so many others expected me to be what he wanted or meet what his expectations of me were. Let us begin again. Hello, I am Britt, I rarely do what I want me to do, so please don’t think I am going to get around to what you want me to. “Thankfully” our dinner was planned with some friends of his who also came in from out of town. We all went to dinner, I entertained the table of twelve with jokes and shenanigans. His eyebrow went up. Mine went higher. Death stares across the table. Like ohhhhh, this is who you expected? Here she is baby. Let me say this, he was so incredibly arrogant, demanding, and sleazy. A lot of people who do not know me well make the same assumptions about me or think I surround myself with people of the same traits. I am not, and I do not because, ew. 

The dinner turned into pre-drinking at the couple’s cabin, and then bar hopping overly packed bars. The whole group was really into everything. I was overwhelmed and super anxious. I decided to take a break and go fuck around with my makeup in the bathroom. Where I was greeted by two intoxicated women who insisted I looked just like Adele (what the actual fuck) and asked if I could sing too. I was fucking over it. I went back to say alright, let’s go, and was greeted by one of the husband’s feet between my knees under the table. I jumped up and went over to my unfortunate “friend” and said we have to go now. I mean it was really like asking for help from the same fucking person. We all loaded up in the drinking bus (yup), and one of the wives texted me the photos we had all taken earlier. I took a look and noticed EVERYONE (except me) had white shit all around their noses. Everything was starting to make a ton of sense and just as my clarity started to set in, “my” dude informed me we had to stay with them that night because our resort was too far. And right after the lady’s husband leans forward and whispers in my ear, you are sleeping in the room next to us tonight. I want to rub my feet on you more. To which I replied, fuck off, I snore a lot. He didn’t seem to mind. The wife promised to make some vegan fucking breakfast sausage and I was like what the fuck even is that? I was seriously falling apart inside. Like terrified but also trying to just go with the flow of the disaster so that one day I could tell a funny story…and here we are. So we climbed off the party bus and I went straight to the car refusing to go into the house. I will sleep in the car kinda thing. “My” dude was like fuckkkkkkk fine, party pooper. And we start to drive to the resort. I told him over and over again he was speeding and he asked me to be quiet. So I told him five more times, duh. I see a cop and then I say nothing. Remember, if you make me miserable, I will make you miserable and my wheels are always spinning. The lights go on and he takes a while to pull over. The cop walks up, the cop makes him get out. The cop puts him in front of the car and asks him to do some maneuvers. As “my” dude starts to do it, the cop instantly goes behind him, does some fancy arm and neck grab and body slams him to the ground. BODY SLAMS HIM TO THE GROUND….I just sat in the car, with the heater on, watching in the light of our headlights with my jaw dropped open, and he glanced at me with handcuffs on as if me finally opening my jaw was the only problem currently taking place.