I’ve spent fifty-seven years saying “Yes.”
“Yes, I’ll take the job.” “Yes, I’ll pay the bill.” “Yes, I’ll listen to your problems.” “Yes, I’ll try to fix you.” “Yes, I’ll be the bigger man.”
I was a Yes Man. I thought it made me strong. I thought it made me a leader. I thought it made me a “good guy.”
But really? It just made me a doormat with a very high credit limit.
So, as part of the demolition process, as I strip the copper wiring out of the walls of my old life, I am compiling the “No” List. This isn’t about being negative. It’s about conservation of energy. Every “No” I say to the bullshit is a “Yes” I get to keep for myself.
Here is what I am never, ever doing again:
1. No More Arguing with the Blue-Haired Wackjobs (or the Red-Hatted Zealots) I am done. You think the world is flat? Great. You think socialism is the answer? Fantastic. You think the President is a lizard person? Sure thing, buddy. I am no longer spending a single calorie of my energy trying to convince an idiot that water is wet. The debate is closed. The comment section is disabled.
2. No More “Fixer-Uppers” I am retiring my toolbelt. I am done dating women who need a therapist, a father figure, a banker, or an exorcist. If you come to me broken, I am not the glue. I am not the safety net. If you can’t pay your own electric bill, do not ask me for a spark. I am done being the Captain Save-A-Ho of the American Southwest.
3. No More Lawns I will never, as long as I live, push a lawnmower again. I will never edge a sidewalk. I will never care about Homeowner Association rules regarding the shade of beige on my stucco. The lawn is the ultimate symbol of the suburban cage—useless, thirsty, and demanding constant attention just to look like everyone else’s. Fuck the grass. I want sand.
4. No More “Let’s Do Lunch” If I don’t want to see you, I won’t. I am done with the polite friction of social obligation. I am done sitting in restaurants with people I don’t respect, talking about things I don’t care about, just to maintain a “network.” My network is now a single straight line pointing to Asia.
5. No More Explaining Myself “Why are you going to Vietnam?” “Why are you quitting a good job?” “Why don’t you want a relationship?” No. I don’t owe you an explanation. I don’t need your understanding. I don’t need your permission. The answer is silence. The answer is a shrug. The answer is the back of my head as I walk away.
This list is my armor. It is the filter.
For the next 60 days, and for the rest of my life, if it doesn’t serve the mission, if it doesn’t bring me peace, if it doesn’t make the 8-year-old kid inside me laugh…
The answer is No.
