After a really stressful week plus PMS plus a big ugly fight with my husband, I️ threw on some leggings, a fleece, and a slouchy hat to cover my greasy hair and told him I️ was going to yoga.

I️ did not go to yoga. I️ drove to a parking lot 8 miles from our home and had a little cry by myself. Then I️ dried my eyes and walked into the liquor store, pimply PMS no-makeup face and all. I️ took a cheap bottle of wine to the cashier, who asked for my I.D. I️ thought, She must ask everyone for I.D. No WAY anyone thinks I’m even close to 21. She scanned my I️.D. and handed it back to me, shaking her head. “I️ thought for sure you were about 10 years younger.” Right then and there, my spirits lifted.

I️ decided to head to the local bar just up the road from my house to have a glass of wine and read the last chapter or two of my Game of Thrones book in peace and quiet. I sat at the bar and, noticing all the Kent Island rednecks around me, I️ ordered a draft beer instead of wine from my bartender friend. I️ opened up my book.

I️ got about a page and half in before a large man sidled up to me. “Whattttttcha readinnnnn therrrrre,” he slurred. I️ replied that I was reading a Game of Thrones book, which inevitably lead to a discussion about the HBO series in which I️ had to explain that no, I️ do not watch the series, but I️ really like the books. The big dude introduced himself as Thick Fingers and told me he’s not much of a reader, then insisted I️ try some of his pumpkin beer. I️ was not about to drink out of this weirdo’s glass. He kept insisting, holding the glass in front of my face, telling me he doesn’t have cooties, looking like he’s no expert in the questionable decisions department. Finally the bartender saved me by placing a cup of the pumpkin beer in front of me. I️ tried it, told Thick Fingers I️ still prefer my Yuengling, and he started asking me what I️ do for a living, telling me what he does for a living, etc. Jesus. I️ have PMS and pimples and I️ just want to be left alone. Thick fingers then told me he’s not much of a TV watcher and much prefers to read at night. Hold up. Didn’t this dude just tell me he’s not much of a reader? Ok, he’s drunkenly trying to impress me. That’s cute. I️ started waving my wedding finger around hoping he would leave me alone. Nope, he wanted to show me pictures of the construction work he’s done. Finally one of his two buddies gestured to him and they left to smoke a cigarette. I️ went back to my book.

“I️ coullnnnnntttt help but overhearrrr you’re a Game of Thrones Fannnnn?” The third buddy had seen his shot and took it. Lawd. This dude had that characteristic drunk look of far off gaze and furrowed brow. “Who’ssss your favvvoritte kerkter?” He asked. Of course my favorite character is Tyrion Lannister, because he is a sarcastic jackass, but I’m only on the first book. “My favvvvrite’s Danaeryssss. Wannnn know why? Isss not jusss cuzzz she’ssss hottt.” Omg please someone kill me. Furrowed Brow told me he works at Whole Foods. “OMG I️ loooooove Whole Foods,” I️ cried in my best Valley Girl voice. It was not the deterrent I️ was hoping for. Furrowed Brow told me he works in the meat department and will only buy superior meat, none of that crap from our local Food Lion. He lives at home with his parents in the same neighborhood as me but he’s hoping to move out soon. He’s hoping to find some “cool people to chill with” and instructed me on how to find him on Facebook. He was recently dating a girl but she turned out to be a “real psycho” who called the police on him, when he wasn’t really stalking her at all, despite what everyone was saying.

Thick Fingers came back from his smoke break and butted in the conversation to tell me he’s planning to make and sell Adirondack chairs. The bartender jumped in and told them to leave me alone, that I️ have little kids and I️ clearly came to the bar to read my book alone. I️ think Furrowed Brow and Thick Fingers were 4 pumpkin beers beyond cognitive function, and I️ realized they were not going to give up. So I️ did what I️ always do in that situation. I️ made it fun for myself.

“Gosh it really sucks that there was some miscommunication between you and your girlfriend, Furrowed Brow. I️ know sometimes bitches be acting up and you just wanna choke a Bitch, and then the cops get called. It’s real unfortunate.” Furrowed Brow furrowed his brow a little extra at that, and said, “No, no, she was a real psycho. She was psychotic, you know what I’m sayin?”

“Listen, Honey, let me tell you something. I’m doin you a favor here. We, women, we are ALL psycho. Some of us just hide it better than others,” I️ told F.B. He didn’t seem to believe me, so I️ got the bartender in on it. “Yo Britt! All women are crazy, some just hide it better than others. Right?”

“Oh yeah! TOTAL psychos, we are,” said my bartender friend. Furrowed Brow did not seem convinced. So I️ had to break out the big guns.

“I️ put kitty litter in my husband’s coffee last night, and I️ threw his work boots into the woods.” I️ used my index finger to outline my face. “Does this look like the face of a crazy person to you? No. I️ am one of the ones who hides it really well.”

F.B. gave a quick nervous laugh and took a long sip of his drink while I️ laughed way too loudly, which caught the attention of Thick Fingers. He wanted to know what I️ was laughing about, so I️ told him. He and buddy #3 just started at me. They asked me to repeat myself. “I️ poured kitty litter into my husband’s plastic tub of Folger’s, and I️ threw his work boots into the woods. I️ don’t even know what shoes he wore to work today.” More blank stares. Then Thick Fingers asked me why I️’d done it, and I️ gave him the ridiculous explanation of what drove me to such madness.

Buddy #3 pointed at me and shouted, “I️ knew it! I️ saw that red hair and I️ knew I️ ain’t even wanna talk to you!” He and Thick Fingers turned their bodies as far away from me as they possibly could while sitting at the same bar.

Furrowed Brow was not deterred. He asked me my political affiliations, and I️ told him I’m mostly a dirty liberal, but that I️ have some pretty conservative views too. “I️ hate the whole Democratic Party,” he said, “did you know they started the KKK? I️ could look it up on my phone and show you right now. And now they’re all hiding behind political correctness? It makes me SICK. You know we could win any war. We have, like, millions of military. I’d like to see anyone try to beat us. We’ll bomb the shit out of ’em.”

At this point I️ am so amused I️ have my chin cupped in my hand and I’m whispering “‘Murica” over and over while he’s talking. When he finished his rant I️ said, “You know what, Furrowed Brow? My American Flag pajama pants are my favorite too. Bald eagles n shit. Hell yeah.” Furrowed Brow gave another nervous laugh and I️ laughed so hard at my own inside joke the whole bar was staring at me. So then Thick Fingers rejoined the conversation. He came with his big 6’3″ self and stood over me, telling me I️ had to say who my political affiliation was and for whom I️ had voted. I️ could not stop laughing. Seeing that he was not going to give up, I️ said, “You know what, Thick Fingers? I️ won’t tell you for whom I️ voted, but I️ will tell you that I️ wish the whole world could sit in a drum circle singing Kumbaya and smoking a big ass peace pipe full of legalized marijuana.”

“Naked?” Thick Fingers asked suggestively.

I️ chugged the rest of my beer, left money for my tab and told Furrowed Brow if I️ ever caught him speeding down my street I’d throw rocks at his car.

This was hands down the best night out I’ve had in way too long. It actually felt really good to somewhat anonymously come clean on my craziness, if only to a bunch of drunken locals.

I️ came home to a quiet household and a kitten who shows affection by rubbing his asshole on my face.

Crazy loves company.