Boring Can Mean You’re No Longer Messing Up Your Life

It doesn’t have to mean you’re a musty old curmudgeon

I used to long to be eighteen again so I could ruin my life differently. I’d spend time coming up with all new ideas on how do it, which did not include getting knocked up straight out of high school.

Before I learned I was pregnant at eighteen, my most immediate priority was Friday night clubbing. And then Saturday, and sometimes Thursday drink specials at select nightclubs. It’s no wonder at all that I ended up pregnant with priorities like that.

Within the same week I peed on a stick and a “+” sign appeared, I also received a letter of acceptance for college. I had applied to interior design school that year.

Clearly these two life changing events couldn’t coexist without flunking out of one or both, so I had to make a choice and this is how it went down:

I opted to take the road less desired by college aged kids and I chose motherhood.

Almost instantly, I turned from bar rat to boring in the eyes of my so-called friends who inevitably stopped coming around. A baby is cute and all but you can’t just shove it into your handbag and hit the club on Friday night.

The thing about becoming boring at such a young age is that it may have saved me from experiencing worse things. If I was stupid enough to get pregnant so young, I can’t help but wonder what dumpster I may have woken up in if I hadn’t been forced to smarten up via motherhood.

I’ve since gone on to successfully ruin my life more times than I can count throughout the years.

I quit a corporate career of ten years to dance off into the sunset and try living in the tropics. I quit another corporate career of four years to go back to college, only to never even attempt working in my field of study. I also tried launching a business that cost me twenty grand to start up, then failed within months.

I’ve left behind security and replaced it with frivolity more times than I can count, and all of them left me hanging out to dry like sneakers dangling from an overhead wire in a dark alley.

But one thing has remained steadfast — I’ve always come back to boring eventually. It’s been kind of a lifesaver, a breath of fresh air in between my madcap stunts.

You can always run off and ruin your life in monumental ways with the comfort of knowing that boring will be sitting here waiting for you when you return to your senses.

Right now, I’m the most boring I’ve ever been and I’m actually quite content with it. I rarely even turn music on in my car anymore because I prefer a quiet, thoughtful drive instead.

I’ve been doing ridiculous things such as purchasing recipe books from Amazon and writing actual grocery lists. I watch so much Netflix that I’m the sole reason they come out with new releases. They’re having a hard time keeping up with me.

I can’t even date at the moment because I’m so boring I have nothing to say.

The other day I looked online at new property rentals because…why? I live in a condo but I now want a yard. Don’t get it twisted though, I don’t intend to go all nature-nut and take up gardening. I just want a place to run through the sprinkler with my puppy.

There’s a certain serenity in being boring. The other day I was at a friend’s house for a play date with our dogs. All we did was sit in her back yard watching our mutts frolic while sipping on Vodka Nudes, and it was a bit heavenly.

For the first time in a long time the whole low-key, neighborly thing really appealed to me.

Of course this doesn’t mean I’ll give up all my earth shattering activities such as travel, because in case you didn’t know, I shatter the earth all day every day when I travel.

But now I definitely don’t feel the need to sell everything I own (again) and go through a full blown mid-life crisis just to feel something. I no longer have to mess up my life to the point of having to pivot so hard I get dizzy and vomit. That sounds too much like my bar rat days.

I’m content to just briefly shatter something and then hightail it back to the comfort of being boring.

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