Saying No – Guest Post

Hey everyone- Today’s post is from a blogger that is pretty amazing at everything, Lori O., aka In Pursuit of It All.

(Note: this is super late in being posted. Again, life got super hectic for me. But better late than never, right? 🙂 )

It’s not like I could say no.

When Mitch asked if I’d share a blog post to celebrate his blogoversary, how could I refuse? He is, after all, the official Sassy Gay Friend of the Court.

We monarchs must offer the occasional boon to the courtiers.

Here, the not-saying-no thing is great. It means I get to write something fun.

But there are other times when my inability to say No gets me in trouble.

The set-up with my best friend’s date’s older brother? Shoulda said no. Shoulda run away screaming, but ‘no’ would have been a good start.

Taking the health class I didn’t need because my friend didn’t want to be friendless? Should have said no. The teacher used a diaphragm as a Frisbee.

I could have said No to the smoking roommate in college. Although to be fair, it wasn’t the smoking that was the bad part, it was the tantrums and the live-in boyfriend in the 10X10 dorm room.

Then there was the time I was asked to supervise the new intern. The one who then showed me his medical marijuana clearance. In a hospital. I’ve got no problem with people who need to medicate, I’ve got no problem with doing it herbally. I don’t want the patients left in the elevator because the intern needed a Twinkie. Becoming a little more intimate with No then would have been a damned good idea.

I could have said No when the saleswoman said, “That orange sets of your complexion.” Or when the cosmetics girl said, “Dark gray eyeshadow is good for evenings AND the office!”  Or when the shoe salesguy said, “You just need to get used to the feel of walking in stilettos.” I should have made No my buddy then. I’d be richer and have fewer back problems.

I need to be a little less afraid of No. Because if I could just be a little bolder, I might find myself with a few extra dollars, a couple extra hours and with a few less bruises from hitting my head against the wall while saying, “Why on earth did I agree to this?”

Which then means less spackling and painting.  I’d say that’s all good.


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