It has come to my attention that I am not an extreme sports guy. I have had a golden opportunity here to try surfing, zip lining, scuba diving, volcano boarding, etcetera, etcetera. Now either I’m genuinely non plussed about such activities, or I have to come to terms with the fact I am indeed big wet blanket. With flowers on.
Permit me a small psychological analysis if you will. I hate going over speed bumps at pace. I crashed my child’s bike and injured my shoulder riding down a tiny hill. I’ve been on one baby roller coaster in my life and loathed it. Ski lifts scare the hell out of me. I hate flying and I’m terrified of heights. I also can’t stand the sight of my own blood and despise that feeling of leaving your stomach behind. I feel you can see a definite trend here. There is no need to continue; any potential partner reading this has now disappeared; along with my pride.
Apparently there are two types of man; Alpha and Beta. Alpha’s are the “I am man; hear me roar!” Beta’s are more; “I’ll make sure you get home safe…no…no…it’s no trouble…let me help you with your coat…” Every guy here is an Alpha. Apart from me. I reside somewhere in the Zeta section.
There is a slight envy there of the fearlessness of these guys and girls, throwing themselves down volcanoes, being on crutches, having twenty stitches, no skin left on their calves, arms up in slings, needing a decompression chamber…wait…did I say envy? That surely can’t be the right word. Tell you what, how about I DON”T try these things and not get a horrific injury? Then again, knowing me, I’ll be hit by a chicken bus. Or get raped.
All joking aside I’m feeling pretty comfortable with who I am. I’m just not that guy. I’m not a bronze-adonis-beach-god-surfer-hero. I admire what they do; living a daring, on-the-edge life in pursuit of the ultimate rush; but I’m never going to throw myself out of a plane, or jump off a bridge with a rubber band tied to my leg. And I’m Ok with that. Really. My extreme sports are horse riding, paintball, karaoke and wearing a kilt. Happiness is being safe in the knowledge that I will never be stung by a jellyfish.
Now I’m going to get out of the sun, retire to my room and write a poem.
I’m not that guy
It has come to my attention that I am not an extreme sports guy. I have had a golden opportunity here to try surfing, zip lining, scuba diving, volcano boarding, etcetera, etcetera. Now either I’m genuinely non plussed about such activities, or I have to come to terms with the fact I am indeed big wet blanket. With flowers on.
Permit me a small psychological analysis if you will. I hate going over speed bumps at pace. I crashed my child’s bike and injured my shoulder riding down a tiny hill. I’ve been on one baby roller coaster in my life and loathed it. Ski lifts scare the hell out of me. I hate flying and I’m terrified of heights. I also can’t stand the sight of my own blood and despise that feeling of leaving your stomach behind. I feel you can see a definite trend here. There is no need to continue; any potential partner reading this has now disappeared; along with my pride.
Apparently there are two types of man; Alpha and Beta. Alpha’s are the “I am man; hear me roar!” Beta’s are more; “I’ll make sure you get home safe…no…no…it’s no trouble…let me help you with your coat…” Every guy here is an Alpha. Apart from me. I reside somewhere in the Zeta section.
There is a slight envy there of the fearlessness of these guys and girls, throwing themselves down volcanoes, being on crutches, having twenty stitches, no skin left on their calves, arms up in slings, needing a decompression chamber…wait…did I say envy? That surely can’t be the right word. Tell you what, how about I DON”T try these things and not get a horrific injury? Then again, knowing me, I’ll be hit by a chicken bus. Or get raped.
All joking aside I’m feeling pretty comfortable with who I am. I’m just not that guy. I’m not a bronze-adonis-beach-god-surfer-hero. I admire what they do; living a daring, on-the-edge life in pursuit of the ultimate rush; but I’m never going to throw myself out of a plane, or jump off a bridge with a rubber band tied to my leg. And I’m Ok with that. Really. My extreme sports are horse riding, paintball, karaoke and wearing a kilt. Happiness is being safe in the knowledge that I will never be stung by a jellyfish.
Now I’m going to get out of the sun, retire to my room and write a poem.