As a dude in my mid-twenties, I’ve encountered a fair number of females who most folksmen my age would consider crazy-pants. I’ve heard a flock of “Dude that chick be nuts” from fellow dudes and lady bros alike. However, I’ve never learned, and will refuse to learn, because the truth is we’re all kinda crazy, so admit it and get in deep with some madness. I’m not saying bring a box of wine to your local mental institution; all I’m suggesting is that a good dose of mild to medium crazy has its benefits.

My most recent ex-something (you know kids these days and their fear of labeling relationships) is nuts-balls. A lovely person in so many ways, yes, but a bit on the side of straight up madness. We met on OKCupid (yes, Internet, I’ll admit it) and actually had some chemistry. Turned out, though, she was a super promiscuous, noncommittal, party rampage of a girl. My friends told me to stay away, as she was volatile and not to be trusted (she did like the random boy encounter), but I was a dumbass of course. And after she’d drunkenly peed on my bed, puked on my Armani jacket I wear to appear a jerkbag, and slept around on me, I finally relented. But what I’ll say is this: she kept me on my toes and it was exciting, even if emotionally draining.

You know that friend who arrives to work or class Monday and you can tell, holy damn you guys he/she rocked that shit? She invented that stereotype. But she is now a friend, and a very good one at that. Internet friends, I’ll tell you straight up I should have given up much earlier in my ill-advised courtship, but what stories I now have! Remember that one I wrote about how my friends tricked me into thinking they’d found a girl for me? I was the asshole in this scenario again, but it was an adventure. Life should be that, dumb adventures you regret a little bit but enjoy a lot.

And yes, I’ve dated or courted other crazy ladies, each one a cornucopia of neurotic madness. Each one has taught me a lot, but the lesson of not dating them is one I refuse to succumb to, because that’d be ultimately boring and a cheat against your personal narrative. True, I could have done without the girl who once called me sobbing as a practical joke (don’t do that to freshmen boys, they’re simple, dumb folk), but again, it was another notch on the life story belt.

You can’t avoid feeling stuff, it’s inevitable. We are sticky, fleshy, emotional creatures, and our capacity for mental anguish is incredible. So stretch those limits, see how far you can take yourself, and improve in spite of these self-imposed tests. Again, not saying date Carrie after the bucket of pig blood incident; do it before. Having a female in your life that tests you is a challenge, and challenges are awesome. I know you hate feeling emotions, Internet, but the girls that don’t try and hide who they are (men will be quick to call girls crazy, but really we’re all crazy and hold ourselves to a weird normality standard) make us jump through hoops we should, and feel stuff we wouldn’t if we followed a preset life path with as many industrial bridges over and around pain that has the capacity to make us happier than we imagined.