Try telling a drunk ballerina that she moves gracefully. I dare you.

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The power a party holds on our ability to socialize is truly something phenomenal.

At parties, I’ve entered into discussions with fascists, with trained mimes, with animal trainers, with programmers, and, notably, ballerinas. I don’t think this is unique to me. Parties bring something out in people, some social animal that will bring you splashing into other people’s circles with abandon.

It’s a bit different, however, to attend a party where you’re the only person who isn’t a professional dancer.

There’s a few things you should know about ballerinas, especially when one of them is an accomplished mixologist and you’re all completely blasted. …


Dungeons & Dragons may save your friendships

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My fiancé is a tall, stoic, tech-bro programmer.

People look at him, see his dark hoodie and dark jeans and dark expression, and get a pretty accurate idea of what he’s like at a glance. He looks like a quiet type, more likely to listen than speak, who probably thinks about serious things most of the time.

Yet, when it came time to introduce his D&D character, he started with a drumroll.

And then a somersault.

He waggled his hands and eyebrows simultaneously, crossing his eyes and crying with a fantastic Mad Hatter voice — “I’m JIMBLES JAMBOREE!”

Cue a spit take from one of our friends, who had known him for months already. …


In fact, I’m the platonic ideal of dads.

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I’m a dad.

I don’t have kids. I’m not a grilling ace. I’ve only been fishing once, where I managed to hook my finger and swear off the sport. I’ve mown my fair share of lawns, but I cannot claim to own a riding mower.

I’m only 25 years old.

Yet, I have a collection of Dad themed mugs and a #1 Dad hat that I wear with enthusiasm.

So… How am I a dad?

Well, I’ll just start by telling you how proud of you I am.

Really! I don’t know you, but I already know that you’re trying your best out there in a world that’s really tough. …


She was a supervillain, I was her henchman, he was a victim.

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What do you imagine it’s like being a henchman to a supervillain?

Like, a complete Igor. Hunchback and all, carrying things to and fro, flipping switches when requested, that sort of thing? Do you think it involves a lot of polishing of the villain’s bone-throne and refilling goblets with blood?

Personally, I imagine it to involve a lot of doing someone else’s laundry and clearing out all the empty Diet Coke cans from someone’s bedroom.

Am I speaking from experience, you ask?

Well…

Let’s just say that I was a very dutiful friend to a cacklingly manipulative person, and one of my Igor Style tasks involved fielding messages from boys she believed to be in love with her. …


DUDES & GUIDES & GUIDES TO DUDES

And a handy guide to awkward conversations with them.

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The college my boyfriend attended is technically a co-ed college, allowing both men and women to attend equally. I say technically, because the reality is that the student body is .

Over the four years he attended that school, I got to know lots of kinds of dudes. types that I had yet to encounter. Types of dudes that now, unfortunately, I know far too well and can spot from a mile off.

So here’s my handy-dandy guide to the types of dudes out there that you probably won’t enjoy talking to.

As a point of clarity, any of these dudes can be any gender at all. In my personal experience, they’ve been cisgender men, but anybody has it in them to be obnoxious. …


If they don’t destroy something you love, are they even really your pets?

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If you own pets, you’ve already lost something important to you.

Not your independence, though you may feel a little lost without your animal pal. Not some effervescent, emotional quality that might be lost by the concept of owning another living being and caring for it.

I mean something literal. A favorite pair of shoes. A lease in an apartment you actually liked. A turkey dinner when you stepped outside for a moment and found the animal up on the counter, going to town.

A first edition Robert Louis Stevenson novel.

Did you throw your animal out on the street? …


SPOOKY SCARY COMMITMENT!

A night for ghouls, ghosts, goblins and… diamonds?

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What did you imagine your engagement would look like?

I found out recently that this is something people spend a lot of time thinking about. The emphasis on a ‘perfect proposal’ is something that takes up a lot of mental space for a lot of people.

I was never the type; my imagination always skipped right over engagement to fantasize about marriage when I was in the mood for a romantic fantasy.

There’s the classic elements to consider, of course. The ring. Someone on one knee. An emphatic yes, to be sure.

One more question.

Do you imagine yourself in a clown costume? …


STORYTIME

In my defense, it’s not like he TOLD me he was.

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When you picture a college party, where does your mind go? Pure hedonism? National Lampoon? Lampshades on heads, keggers, beer pong, and blackouts?

That would have been my first guess, too, if I hadn’t lived close to the least party-centric college in possibly the entire world. It was a college made specifically for people to learn how to program video games. Not even programming other stuff, JUST video games.

The first college party I went to hosted by people from that school involved six people on their laptops, doing homework, while I quietly got drunk watching Wreck-It-Ralph alone in the living room. …


Hate-sex is out, pissed off snuggling is in.

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Who do you turn into when your anxieties, fears, and worries get the best of you?

Do you turn into a , letting your anxieties turn into anger and demands of others?

Personally, I go through a werewolf-like transformation. The full moon looms overhead, and from a pretty well adjusted adult, I transmogrify into a 13 year old with swoopy bangs.

I get sulky.

I get snippy.

No, I don’t want to do the dishes. I’m too busy applying dark eyeliner and thinking about how nobody understands me.

I’m fully aware of how obnoxious my late-onset angst is, but my boyfriend doesn’t seem to mind. …


And not in the way my dad probably intended.

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Are you afraid of spiders?

Before you lie and say you’re fine with them, and talk about how important they are to the ecosystem or whatever, let me ask you a new question:

Were you afraid of spiders as a little kid?

I certainly was. Not an abnormal amount, mind you, just a normal eight year old living my eight year old life, thinking spiders were one crowd I did not want to hang out with.

True, I was scared of a lot of things at that age. Elevators. Escalators. Staircases. …

About

M. L. Moore

Goofball, anti-fascist, stay at home jester. I use they/them pronouns and know useless information about everything.

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