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Fuck Politeness: The Story of My Standoff With a Butterfly

One of my personal goals is to be less polite. I’m 27 and my kindness has served as a strength for many years, but honestly, I’m too old for this shit. I have no plans of becoming an overnight asshole, but I’m learning to be less accommodating.

I’ve started small on my journey to fuck politeness. Here’s how it began:

I’m on a run through downtown St. Pete. The ocean is beautiful, the sun is out, and I’m feeling it — just blowing out my eardrums to the sweet sounds of Lizzo. Then along comes a butterfly.

I see that fluttery little fuck coming at me and I’m just like, nah, I’m not moving. So, we approach each other slowly since I have toddler legs and butterflies don’t move all that fast, and we get closer… and closer… and closer. My eyes narrow and I’m just like I WILL NOT MOVE OUT OF THE WAY FOR THIS BUTTERFLY.

As if planned, my music starts to speed up, and in the movie that is my mind there’s a continuous jump shot between my face (-_-) and the butterfly. Faster… and faster… and faster… and I WILL NOT MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-the butterfuck flaps me in the face.

That pretty little thing straight up slaps me with its pretty little wings. A double whammy – pow, pow! Then it goes on its merry way, and I’m standing there staring after it with my mouth open. YOU DID NOT JUST DO THAT.

But it did. And it was an enlightening 15 seconds that I wish several dog walkers hadn’t witnessed.

Lesson learned: My aim to be less accommodating might come with push back. After all, people (and butterflies) don’t take kindly to being refused or told no. But you know what? That’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for an issue that matters to me. BECAUSE I AM A BADASS.

So if you ever see me out running and I start screaming GET OUT THE WAY at what appears to be thin air, just know that I’m probably getting into an altercation with a ladybug.

THE END

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