We love our friends. That’s why they are our friends. But all relationships are complicated, and sometimes friends get on friends’ nerves. I do it all the time, such as when I get drunk and put things on my head and force my friends to take pictures. I realize this gets annoying, but hey, maybe they should leave quietly before I get to my fifth glass of wine! And this is exactly why it’s important to develop your internal strategy for not giving a fuck when it comes to conflicts that could put significant strain on—or even destroy—a friendship.
The thing is, other people deposit a lot of their fucks in your mental barn. Some of these are short-term storage. Some have been gathering dust in a back corner for years. But the real question is, how did those fucks get there in the first place?
Oh, that’s right. You let them in.
In your quest not to be annoyed by friends, acquaintances, and even strangers, you need to set some boundaries around your barn.
Maybe these are invisible boundaries, like those electric shock fences people set up to keep their pets from escaping. For example, say that every time you go to a certain couple’s house, their giant, slobbery dog tries to lick your balls like they’re made of Alpo, and you want to avoid going there so you can avoid being annoyed at your friends by way of their ball-licking dog. You don’t give a fuck about dealing with their dog, but you don’t want to tell them this because you suspect it will hurt their feelings. You’re so polite! So you set a private boundary: you invite them to come to you, or suggest neutral hangout spots where your balls can remain out of harm’s way. And if they have a gathering at their house, maybe you get a little tummy ache that night. There’s no harm in pleading gastric distress every once in a while to keep a friendship intact.
Sometimes your boundaries can be more obvious, like a tasteful NO TRESPASSING sign, or that fancy coiled wire they string up around prison yards.
For example, early in my development of the NotSorry Method, I was confronted with the Pub Trivia Problem. I have a group of friends who just loooooove pub trivia. In Williamsburg! (For those who don’t know—Williamsburg, Brooklyn, is a godawful hipster wasteland populated exclusively by mustaches and empty cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon.) They kept asking me to join them, and I kept making lame excuses not to go. Then I would have to remember what my excuse was lest I get caught out on Facebook during pub trivia “GETTING MY NAP ON.”
But once I embraced NotSorry, instead of racking my brain to come up with yet another lame excuse—and then having to self-police my social media to make sure I didn’t get caught in a lie—the next time they asked, I just said, “You know what? I really don’t like pub trivia, and I’m not big on Williamsburg either, so my answer to this is always going to be no. I should probably just tell you that now and save us all the Kabuki theater of invitation and regrets.”
I erected my fence and it worked like a charm!
Are you worried that your friends will be mad at you if you just tell them the polite truth? Then you worry too much. The beauty of the NotSorry Method is that you won’t have to worry, because you’ve taken everyone’s feelings and opinions—including yours—into consideration before acting.
Now that my friends know the truth, I feel Liberated with a capital L. I was honest and polite, and nobody’s feelings got hurt so I didn’t have to apologize. I was quite literally not sorry.
Plus—major win—I didn’t have to go to pub trivia in Williamsburg.
Those first two were pretty easy, straightforward examples, but we’re just getting started. There will be plenty of things on your Friends list that are going to require more complex NotSorry, which is why I also included Acquaintances and Strangers in the Category Three mix. This way, if you get stuck on whether to give a fuck about your friend’s “divorce shower” or the truly insignificant injury that she won’t shut up about (ankles twist, Susan, that’s what they do), you can practice your method on a chatty neighbor or a grocery-store checkout clerk, then work your way up to fucks given/not given to your nearest and dearest.
Which brings me to…
We touched on this briefly with Gail from Marketing, but the request for money in the guise of a donation to a cause or someone’s pet project—or even as a cash loan—happens even more regularly among friends. You know what I’m talking about: a hundred-dollar-a-head fund-raiser for someone’s political-candidate-of-the-moment, a fifty-dollar pledge to someone else’s bike ride for feline obesity, or twenty-five dollars toward a Kickstarter campaign for “the perfect kazoo.”
You can put Kickstarter (and Indiegogo, PledgeMusic, GigFunder, RocketHub, GoFundMe, etc.) on your Category One list of Things I Don’t Give a Fuck About, but that naked plea for cash and validation is always attached to a person. It could be from a close friend, a social media–level acquaintance, or, in many cases, a stranger with whom you share a mutual friend who felt guilted into forwarding it to you and three hundred other unsuspecting rubes. These things are Category One with Categories Two through Four rising. Very sneaky.
Anyway, I don’t mean to delegitimize such requests, which are typically made in good faith. But while there are plenty of excellent causes, charities, and inventions out there that may be worthy of your dollars and fucks—I myself have contributed to several—I’ll hazard a guess and say they cannot ALL possibly fit within your Fuck Budget.
And that, my friend/acquaintance/stranger, is why you’re reading this book!
The Internet has made possible such glorious innovations as Tinder and online mah-jongg, but it has also brought out the panhandler in many of us by way of e-mail, social media, and crowdfunding websites. These avenues make it much easier and less confrontational for people to ask you for money. If all the requests I received over e-mail or Facebook had to be made in person with a clipboard and a fanny pack to hold old-fashioned cash donations, I promise you half of these folks would never be biking to cure feline obesity or trying to invent that kazoo.
In one year, for example, urgent requests for donations to cure AIDS, diabetes, and heart disease; support Planned Parenthood; fund one podcast, two independent films, and three music albums; eradicate four different cancers; and subsidize several doomed entrepreneurial endeavors made their way into my social media feeds or e-mail in-box. Some from close friends, some from friends of friends, and some from—yes—total strangers.
Before I started down my path to enlightenment, I spent far too many valuable minutes agonizing about whether to contribute to any/all of these charitable appeals, and then too many dollars donating to them. But it wasn’t just about the time and money. I also spent a lot of energy worrying about who would know whether I did or didn’t contribute, and what they would think of me. And also whether I would have to fucking talk to them about it at a party someday, tail between my stingy little legs.
No more!
Now that I’m a practitioner of the NotSorry Method, I can quickly and easily determine whether I give a fuck about the request itself and whether it affects anyone else, then act on my decision in an honest, polite way that leaves me with more time, energy, and money to spend on other things. I can padlock my barn door and unlock it only to bring in the fucks that I (a) have room for and (b) am happy to store for you for a night, a couple weeks, or in perpetuity.
Have I mentioned that my method is both simple and life-changing?
Let’s start with strangers and acquaintances and work our way up the ladder to friends, one needy rung at a time.
Say one day you get a mass e-mail from a low-level acquaintance who obviously just cc’d his whole address book asking you to “contribute what you can!” to his old summer camp friend’s fund-raiser for… I don’t know… sunglasses for dogs.
Reviewing what you’ve already learned, you determine that while this line item on your Fuck Budget does affect someone else, it does so in a pretty indirect way—you’re not actively taking anything away from this aspiring entrepreneur (who is a complete stranger to you), you’re just not adding to their coffers.
Second, the person who sent you the request is just an acquaintance, not a close friend, so you probably don’t have to explain yourself—or your difference of opinion about whether the world needs sunglasses for dogs—in person anytime soon.
Last, this isn’t a situation where, if handled properly, anyone’s feelings are going to get hurt. I mean, you shouldn’t Reply-All to the whole e-mail list saying, Sunglasses for dogs? That’s the stupidest idea since Baby Bangs!* There’s no need to be an asshole about it. (Although, for the record, both of those are very stupid ideas. What the fuck does a six-month-old need with hair extensions?)
So, Step 1: When all is said and done, do you give a fuck about sunglasses for dogs?
No? Then why haven’t you already deleted that e-mail, you sucker? (I’m sorry, but that was too easy.)
Fine, fine, but that was just a random friend of a friend. What happens when a really close friend wants you to donate to something that’s really important to her?
This is when you have to dig deep and use all of your tools. Wax on, wax off, paint the fence, etc. (Mr. Miyagi… now there was a guy who gave no fucks.)
First question: Is your friend’s project really important to you too? Does it, you know, “spark joy”? If the answer is yes, and you can fit a donation into your actual budget, not just into your Fuck Budget, then go with God. Why are we even having this conversation?
But if the answer is no, ask yourself whether it’s possible to decline (honestly and politely) without hurting your friend’s feelings. Depending on what kind of person your friend is, that could be easy or not-so-easy.
Will you never have to speak of it after that initial e-mail volley? Then proceed to Not Giving a Fuck. Do not pass Go, do not deposit $200 in your friend’s Kickstarter.
Or is your friend likely to bring it up in casual conversation when you see her? (“OMG, my Kickstarter is seventeen percent funded! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT WINK-WINK NUDGE-NUDGE?!”) In this case, you should reply with something like “That is so great! I’m so happy for you!” meanwhile thinking, I am not acknowledging that I haven’t contributed unless you ask me outright, you coward.
In situations like these, you are like a master of the Chinese martial art tai chi, the general principle of which is to yield to an incoming attack rather than meet it with opposing force. In doing so, you absorb your opponent’s energy and redirect it back at her so that she is essentially vanquished by her own hand. In other words, you can politely respond to her passive-aggression with a dose of your own and win this battle without your friend even realizing that you’ve fought.
It gets a little trickier—but not impossible!—if your friend is one of those people who can’t be placated with a gentle sidestep and some ancient Chinese philosophy. This is when you have to whip out your Fuck Budget and your opinions vs. feelings calculator in the middle of the party and develop your honest, polite response about how you’re superhappy for her, and you hope she understands that you don’t have extra money to spend in pursuit of anyone else’s hopes and dreams.
Et voilà.
Go ahead, say it. You don’t think it’s going to work, do you?
You acknowledge that in the end you might save yourself the actual monetary donation, but you don’t really believe you’ll save yourself much agonizing over what your friend thinks or over the prospect of hurting her feelings.
You think I haven’t been there? Well, I have, and that’s why I’ve got a little something else in my trick bag for you…
Personal policies are an excellent way to conserve your fucks swiftly, efficiently, and with an extremely low risk of hurt feelings. (Listen, I can’t help you if your friend is that much of a self-involved basket case—maybe she should consider therapy.)
Here’s how it works:
If there’s something I don’t give a fuck about but that exists in that gray area of potentially hurting someone else’s feelings no matter how honest and polite I am, I simply chalk it up to a “personal policy.”
As in “I have a personal policy against donating to Kickstarter campaigns, because if I donate to one, I feel like I have to donate to them all. I just can’t afford it, and if I had to choose, I wouldn’t want anyone I love to think I value them more or less than anyone else.”
Zing!
And as I said, you can include any/all charitable donations, pledges, and even cold-hard-cash loans in this category of fucks, since they are typically solicited in the same manner, by the same people, and can be covered by the same personal policy.
Say it one more time, with feeling:
“I have a personal policy against _______________, because if I _______________ one, I feel like I have to _______________ them all. I just can’t afford it, and if I had to choose, I wouldn’t want anyone I love to think I value them more or less than anyone else.”
Now, imagine you’re on the other end of that response. You might get a little huffy for a hot second, but can you really… argue? No, you cannot. At least, not without being an asshole. (See what I did there?) And you certainly shouldn’t take it personally. It’s just my policy—which is kind of like my opinion but even harder for anyone to argue with because as human beings, we are conditioned to submit to things like “rules” and “policies.”
Told you this wasn’t my first rodeo.
Second-wedding bachelor/-ette parties
Simply uncalled-for.
Dispensing free professional advice
I’m sorry, do I look like someone who doesn’t charge good money for the expertise I spent eight years in grad school and $230,000 in college loans accumulating?
Useful for avoiding dates with sober people and small children.
Driving more than four hours round trip in the same day
“Back problems.”
Karaoke
It’s kind of appalling how many times and in how many ways a personal policy against karaoke will save your ass.
Potluck dinners
Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with people.
Documentary films
This is the most common kind of film your friends will make, trust me.
Poetry slams
If you never RSVP yes in the first place, you won’t have to agonize over a last-minute cancellation, now will you?
Let’s look at a personal policy in action:
Say a close friend invites me to be his date for a gallery opening with an artist Q&A after. I really, really don’t give a fuck about gallery openings—like, the very idea of going to one makes me want to slit my wrists with a toothpick I just pried out of a stale cheese cube—but he’s very sensitive and artsy and I don’t want to risk hurting his feelings, so I tell him I have a personal policy against gallery openings.
And maybe I look down and sort of visibly shudder, just to really drive it home. For all he knows, I got gonorrhea at the last gallery opening I went to. Nobody wants to discuss that.
In my experience, people don’t tend to push too hard once you serve them with a personal policy (especially when it’s delivered with a certain flair). If I were to say, “Oh, I don’t really like gallery openings,” then that’s just my opinion—and although it’s valid and I could stand my ground with confidence, opinions are easier to debate than policies. And you might have to get into it a little, eating up valuable time and energy:
“You don’t like gallery openings? Why not?”
“Well, I think they’re kind of boring and my feet hurt from standing.”
“But you get to commune with the work under halogen lighting!”
Plus, there’s always your friend’s pesky feelings.
“Yeah, but it always gets so stuffy in there. I don’t think artsy people wear deodorant.”
“Um, what exactly are you implying? I smell bad? God, you’re being a real asshole, you know that? You could have just said no.”
“I did. But then you argued with me. You realize we’re still talking about this, right?”
Personal policies are definitely the way to go in this scenario. They are mysterious and they tend to make people a little bit uncomfortable and really shut down the conversation. Like Kanye.
And the even better thing about developing a personal policy is that it’s your policy, so you can amend it or suspend it whenever you want—and nobody wants to argue with you because they’re afraid of hurting your feelings!
That’s some real ninja shit right there. Mr. Miyagi would be proud.
We’ve done very good work so far, have we not? We’ve engaged in some hard-core visualization, learned the difference between feelings and opinions, practiced the art of not giving a fuck about what other people think, scrutinized our Fuck Budgets, and gotten the lowdown on personal policies (a personal favorite). I can practically feel the life-changing magic bubbling up within you.
Which of course means it’s time to throw you a curveball.
Not giving a fuck isn’t necessarily easy. Simple, yes. Easy, not always. And that’s precisely why we’re building a solid foundation of lists and practice scenarios and related concepts to shore up your defenses for the really tough stuff.
Like children.
Which friends, acquaintances, and strangers seem to have in endless supply.
(I’m not talking about your nieces and nephews and cousins and kids and grandkids—they all belong in Category Four: Family. That’s a whole other ball of placenta. Right now, we’re focused on identifying the things you can reasonably be expected to not give a fuck about as relates to children who are not related to you.)
If you’re a nonparent, it can be daunting to admit you don’t give a fuck about child-related things. People’s feelings about their children are so emphatic and visceral (and occasionally irrational) that it can be hard to accurately predict whether—in your quest to not give a fuck about toddler birthday parties—you are going to hurt someone’s feelings, or whether that person will accept your difference of opinion and let you off the hook.
None of this changes the fact that getting up at nine o’clock on a Sunday morning to watch a one-year-old smear cake on his face is something you decidedly don’t give a fuck about—but you might still be understandably trepidatious about proceeding to Step 2, not giving a fuck.
That’s what I’m here for.
As you may have already inferred, I am, shall we say, immune to the charms of children. But through long experience—and because parents tend to feel comfortable confiding their shameful little secrets to a childfree pal over a few bottles of wine—I can tell you that even parents don’t always give a fuck about kids other than their own.
As one mother put it, “It’s about a funneling of fucks, really. All of my fucks have been funneled toward my child. I have none left over for you or for how you do it.”
So, just to make absolutely sure that this book contains appropriate levels of life-changing magic for everyone, I canvassed parents nationwide to find out exactly what THEY don’t give a fuck about, and why.
It was all extremely illuminating, and I will share it with you in due course.
But I also want to acknowledge that, as cathartic as it was (and it clearly was) for these parents to tell me about all the fucks they don’t give with regard to pee and pacifiers, there were plenty who added the caveat that so much about having kids is rewarding and worth giving a fuck about.
And that’s the key: giving your fucks to the things that make you happy—like reading or cooking or playing with your mini-me—and not giving a fuck about the rest.
One mother responded from the perspective of teaching her own kids what to give a fuck about: “As someone who grew up in a household full of guilt, I think it’s important for our kids to know that they can make decisions about what to care about, and that they don’t need to pay attention to the approval or condescension of other people in deciding how to live their lives.”
Right on!
And perhaps the most practical comment came from a mom who said that having a child can actually serve you well in prioritizing fucks given to other areas of life, such as the workplace. That the well-being of this brand-new human can sometimes be the catalyst to finally stop giving a fuck about staying after hours, taking on added responsibilities, and pinch-hitting for the real or metaphorical company softball team. It can lead you to draw clear boundaries with supervisors and employees alike and to be honest and firm about what you’re capable of handling in any given day.
In other words, that precious creature could be your first step in adopting the NotSorry Method, Category Two: Work. Boom!
Without further ado, I am pleased to present the following:
From where your baby emerged. Natural, drug-free vaginal birth? More power to you. Cesarean? Keepin’ it tight. Water birth? Whatever floats your boat. Another woman entirely? Isn’t science great! Regardless of the provenance of your bundle of joy, most people don’t give a fuck, so you can stop feeling the need to defend your epidural in mixed company.
Whether you choose to breast-feed or not. Although the comments sections of some Facebook walls might suggest otherwise, as it turns out, the majority of parents care only about their own kids’ suckling habits and do not give a fuck about whether your darling newborn has successfully “latched,” how chapped your nipples may or may not be, or if baby’s immune system will suffer from being raised on formula. You do you, Mama.
Ferberizing. You don’t have to justify it or decry it to anyone. Nobody cares how your kid goes the fuck to sleep. Just git ’er done!
Sharing. Most parents do want their children to grow into adults who understand the concept of sharing and know when it’s the right thing to do. Just like they want them to grow up not to be serial killers. But perhaps everyone fixates on sharing a little too much when it comes to this or that toy or book or hat. As one mother said, “It would be lovely if my son wanted to share his truck [with your child], but I don’t ask you to give me a slurp of your eight-dollar iced coffee at the playground, do I? You can shoot me various imploring/judgmental/evil looks while your kid cries over someone else’s toy—I am taking ten minutes to read my phone in peace while my child is blissfully occupied with the toy I bought him.”
“What the experts say.” Parents know what the experts say—they all read the same wildly conflicting books and articles and studies when deciding whether to let Junior handle an iPad for ten minutes a day before his fifth birthday. And they may give a fuck about what the experts say—or not—but they certainly don’t need to hear it all over again from you, a 100 percent certified nonexpert.
Potty training. Some parents like the feeling of camaraderie/schadenfreude that accompanies talk of potty training—it helps them feel less alone. Maybe they score some good tips or maybe they get to feel superior for having a kid who takes to the porcelain throne with ease. But on the whole, there are very few people on this earth who give a fuck about the details of when, where, under what circumstances, and how often a child excretes waste from his or her lower half. Gross.
Naps, scheduling of. It would appear from my research into this topic that many parents remember that they fell asleep anywhere and everywhere as kids, and yet modern child-rearing texts would have them believe that naps must happen on a schedule as strict as a Béla Károlyi training regimen if they are to have any hope of ANYONE SLEEPING EVER AGAIN. Which is a perfectly understandable concern—there’s a reason sleep deprivation is a form of torture. But, you know, maybe we don’t have to talk about it quite so much? One mom told me that every time her friends start detailing little John’s and Janie’s nap schedules, she’d much rather be talking about books, or politics, or her latest sex dream, or Matthew McConaughey’s arms (which may have featured prominently in said dream). Alright, alright, alright.
“Whether anyone thinks I should keep trying until I have a [child of a different sex than the three I already have].” I heard this from several moms and, I mean, it’s essentially a fifty-fifty proposition every time, right? So… are the people who ask this ridiculous question going to keep taking the wrong-gender babies off mommy’s hands until she hits the jackpot?
Parental one-upmanship. Nobody but you gives a fuck about what AMAZING programs your child’s school offers (Robotics! Mandarin! Trapeze!), or how many hours of homework the teachers assign, or the intricacies of your chauffeur schedule. Nonparents especially don’t give a fuck, but other parents only want to know this stuff if they are considering sending their own kids to that school, or carpooling with you.
Parents! Who knew? I feel so much better about all the fucks I never gave to any of this stuff, and I hope you do too.
Finally, to round out Category Three, I have a piece of tried-and-true advice that may run contrary to everything you’ve read thus far—but as we know from the fact that Nick Nolte was once named People’s Sexiest Man Alive, there is no rhyme or reason to this world…
Oh, don’t look so shocked. It’s true that until now I’ve staunchly advocated using “other people’s feelings” as a barometer for deciding whether you give a fuck and, more important, to consider them when acting on Step 2 of the NotSorry Method, not giving a fuck. Honesty, politeness, not being an asshole. You know the drill.
But when it comes to Category Three strangers (and even the occasional acquaintances), I gotta tell you: sometimes you just can’t worry about whose feelings are getting hurt in pursuit of living your best life.
Not giving a fuck—and reserving your fucks for what’s really important to you—is an evolving process. It means prioritizing your fucks based on what comes at you every day. And there are going to be days when hurting some stranger’s feelings is low on the totem pole.
Real low.
I’m not saying you should start tweeting insults at strangers just for you-know-whats and giggles. Or walk out into the street and exhort random passersby to “suck a bag of dicks” (TM Louis C.K.). That is not life-changing magic. That is just mean.
But some time, some day, in your heart of hearts, you will know when it is okay to hurt someone’s feelings in the process of not giving a fuck. Economists call it an opportunity cost. I call it common sense.
1. When people knock on your door trying to convert you to their religion. You do not—I repeat, do not—have to feel bad about closing it right in their faces. True, you can’t spell P-R-O-S-E-L-Y-T-I-Z-E without P-O-L-I-T-E, but that’s just semantics.
2. When the person in line ahead of you at Starbucks can’t make up her mind and you are legit in a hurry. I hereby grant you permission to inquire, “So… are you nearsighted? Because I would be happy to recite the menu in its entirety for you, a process that cannot possibly take longer than we have already been standing here waiting for you to make some pretty basic life decisions.”
3. When the lady or gentleman onstage at the comedy club is absolutely the antithesis of funny. It’s one thing to be polite; it’s another thing to endure twenty minutes of stale jokes and staler beer. He or she chose this career path—he or she better have feelings of steel. Don’t give a fuck; walk out, and don’t look back.
4. When other women pee on the seat. These monsters deserve to be actively shamed. My Fuck Budget does not account for time spent gingerly wiping off your urine before I can sit on a public toilet, and I am too short to squat effectively. I will follow you back out into that bar/stadium/conference room/banquet hall and I will give you a stern talking-to, yes, I will.
5. When someone leans his airplane seat back into your knees. I don’t give a fuck about your personal space if you don’t give a fuck about mine, buddy. I may not hurt your feelings but I will kick you in the back for as long as it takes.
So there you have it: Plenty of tools to decide whether giving a fuck about various scenarios involving friends, acquaintances, or strangers is in your future. Time to get down on the floor, scavenge around in your mental barn, and make your list!
We’ve been dwelling on the negative for a while here to help you get to the heart of what you honestly just don’t give a fuck about. But the whole purpose of making these lists and crossing out things that threaten to overdraw your Fuck Budget is to reveal the ones that are worthy. And to create more time and emotional space to preserve and pursue those relationships and all the fucks they entail. That’s the life-changing magic in a nutshell.
Part IV is where all of this will be synthesized, but before we get there, we have a bit more work to do.
Yep, it’s time to blow the barn doors off the mother of all fuck-giving.