When your brain gets in the way of having a good time.

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So you’ve just returned from a trip in the desert with a boy who loves adventure and nature and looks like someone from a dream you probably had about the meaning of life, and now you want to connect with all of the good forces in the world in order to secure a happy future but your brain keeps getting in the way. It’s time to take a look back at when and how your brain ruined your chances of happiness and find out the right steps to not making these mistakes in the future.

Your brain got in the way when you met Jewish Indiana Jones. It was Halloween and he was all about your long brown wig and gypsy corset. You danced to techno music at the pink garter and kissed all over the dance floor. He came over with a Doors record and you talked about Carl Jung and made out on the shag carpet. So what was the problem? Your brain. Your brain told you to tell him about your sexual past and bring up every insecurity ever and when he took a step back you immediately texted him to find out what the fuck was wrong.

Your brain got in the way when you finally had a job you could stay in for more than six months and maybe turn into a full time gig with benefits and friends who would come over after work and drink a beer and talk about Bernie Sanders. Except your brain got in the way. It told you that you deserved more respect and why was the older lady with the crazy editorial corrections being taken seriously at all and how come it was always so quiet and awkward the only response was spontaneous outbursts of bad jokes and escalating awkwardness. Would you like a miniature Pegasus I found on the street because you’re a weird boss? No? How about fuck off forever.

The best way to stop your brain from taking over and ruining a good situation is to exercise your brain with non-emotional pastimes like crossword puzzles and chess, meanwhile putting excess mental blubber in a storage unit at the back of your brain between the calamus scriptorius and occipital pole. Here you can gather residual angst and bitterness toward your mother, and once everything has calcified to a pleasurably conspicuous degree leaving you on the verge of an emotional outburst over Moscow Mules, you can pick it up and fling it into the Recycling Bin of Bad Temptations where it will disintegrate under the weight of forgettable financial choices and one night stands.

Once your brain has found a new level of clarity it will make room for healthy things like chlorophyll drops and aloe vera juice. You will perfect the art of bento boxes and the boy from the red rocks with the hair of gold and love for snowboarding will be happy to date you because your brain isn’t turning him into a petrified monster. Good luck and remember, all that glitters is merely the encrusted makeup of an old resentful, botox lady who never learned to get her brain out of the way.

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