This may reflect badly on the sexual preferences of my ancestors, but I’m pretty sure I’ve got donkey DNA in me somewhere.

The stronger the resistance, the harder I dig in my heels.  And I’m genetically programmed to respond to dares: 

Challenger:  “Betcha can’t do that!”  Me:  “Oh, yeah?  Watch me!”  This can be a useful trait at times, but I’m trying to overcome it.  Those who know me well are starting to catch on.

Hubby:  “Betcha won’t clean the bathroom, do the laundry, wash my car, and make me a gourmet meal tonight!”  Me:  “Oh, yeah?  Watch… hey, wait a minute…”

I prefer to think that my life has been enriched by the activities that I never would have tried if I hadn’t been dared to do them.

I never would have ridden to the top of that scree slope on my dirt bike.  The view was amazing.  ‘Course, the trip down got a little exciting when my brakes faded and gave out from the heat.  And yeah, I caused a minor rockslide.  But I didn’t actually hurt anything when I had to run into the side of the hill to stop. 

I never would have known how many little channels and islands there are in Lake of the Woods if I hadn’t taken off on impulse on a five-day canoe trip with a couple of friends. 

In retrospect, it probably would have been better if I’d told somebody I was going.  And the trip could have been improved if we hadn’t ended up stranded for two days at our pickup point.  And it might have been nice if my ride back hadn’t dumped me ‘way the hell out in the Mission Industrial area of Winnipeg.  Without money or a map.  On a Sunday.  I’m still not sure what I did to piss him off.  But hey, you can’t have everything.  The canoeing part was great.

Those who know me have given up daring me to eat unusual foods.  If it qualifies as food somewhere in the world, I’ve probably already tried it.  Or I’m willing to try it.  If you dare me. 

And don’t bother daring me to eat non-food items.  I’ve probably already done that, too.  My childhood experiment with the coloured chalk comes vividly (pun intended) to mind.

And let’s not forget jumping off the highest object you can find.  Fortunately for my bones, I grew up in the part of Manitoba that’s as flat as piss on a platter.  The best I managed was a twelve-foot drop off one of the lifeguard towers at Grand Beach.  No, not into the water.  That would’ve been smart. 

To this day, I’m unable to sneak up a flight of stairs, because it sounds like somebody is enthusiastically popping bubble wrap under both of my kneecaps.  But at least I’m not afraid of heights.

What’s best (or worst) thing you ever did on a dare?