Last night my husband took me on a date — except he wasn’t my husband, he was my boyfriend, because we’d decided it was the nineties. (He’s a ’79, I’m an ’80. We came by it honestly.)
I wore the flannel tied at the waist, the choker, the tennis shoes. We started at a basic-but-perfect pizza place, played 3D mini golf in glasses that made the ball float — best game I have ever played, which means the glasses are now a necessity — and beat each other at air hockey.
Then it was still early, and instead of heading home like responsible adults, we just… drove. No Google Maps. No plan. “Turn here.” “Ooh, let’s try there.”
We’re only four months into Arizona, so it was all new — and we ended up in downtown Gilbert at night for the first time, parked the car, and walked the strip like two people with nowhere to be.
We danced in the street, y’all. We held hands. We played arcade games because they were free, ate gelato, and the whole night had no clock on it.
And here’s the part that got me.
We met in college — so technically, we had our young years together.
But we never had THIS.
Back then we were so busy being grown — the apartment, the plans, the being-taken-seriously, having children young — that we never noticed we’d skipped past the silly.
Nobody tells you that you’re doing it.
You just wake up twenty-five years later fluent in responsible.
So last night, at mid-forties, we finally took the teenage date we never took.
And carefree, it turns out, was on my favorites list the whole time. I just hadn’t written it down yet.
Which brings me to my quick question, and don’t overthink it:
What do YOU love?
If you just went a little blank — or started reaching for what you’re supposed to like — I get it.
The women I work with (myself included, for far, far too long) can rattle off everyone else’s favorites without blinking. Their orders, their comfort shows, their snacks. Somewhere in the years of taking care of everybody, our own lists go quiet.
Last week I asked you to catch three things she loves — the woman underneath all the handling.
This week is the next tiny rebellion: give her one back.
Your JOY NUGGET this week, friends:
Write five favorite things — yours, not the ones you’re supposed to like — and reclaim just one.
Wear the color.
Twirl in the kitchen.
Eat the good chocolate slowly, for no reason except that you love it. And don't share any with the kids! *insert evil queen laugh here*
(In this week’s episode of The Joyful Rebel, I walk you through the whole Favorite Things List — three little moves that fit on the back of a receipt — plus a peek at a few of mine: bougainvillea pink, boat rides at sunset, and the sun rays I call glimpses of heaven.)
Your PLAY PROMPT for the weekend:
Be a Joy Detective — and stage a 60-second favorite.
Pick ONE favorite thing from your five.
Set a 60-second timer.
And actually DO it — not someday, this weekend.
Sixty seconds of the song too loud in the kitchen. Sixty seconds in the pink. Sixty seconds of “turn here” with no map. Sixty seconds on the park swing even if there are other families around ;)
That’s the whole dare. Play.
And if you want a whole little deck of dares like that — I made you one.
Grab the free Rebel Joy Card Deck - Seven print-and-keep cards. One brave, joyful prompt each. Pick a card. Set a 60-second timer. Play. (That’s the whole practice.)
You replay what you wish you'd said, after the moment already passed. You say "it's fine" when your body says it's aggressively not. You wait for the rest you believe you have to earn. That's not personality. That's self-abandonment — what I named Good Girl Ghosting™. The Rebel Letters is my weekly letter for women who are done ghosting themselves. A true story, a Joy Nugget to take, a Pinkie-Toe Step you can practice, and a Play Prompt to send you into the weekend as a Joy Detective — following what lights you up as you fall in love with the woman you were created to be. Real stories, real talk, zero performance. Welcome to the Rebellion. We've saved you a seat.
