So, the other day I lied to my UPS man.
Lying to your UPS man. Yeah. This is low.

But in my defense, I was out all night before. Late. Very late. Like, I actually can't call it "night" because it was very clearly the morning.

But when your door buzzes at nine in the morning after only four hours of sleep and you decide to not ignore it and actually go down your stairs to see who is buzzing you instead of pressing the "Listen" button to hear who it is, you will experience this:

"Hi, I have a package." Mr. UPS says. He's a nice guy, tall, deep voice. He points to a giant box. I had forgotten that my parents had purchased me one of my Christmas presents online-- a new table for my t.v.
"It's heavy, do you need me to carry it up?"

I looked at the box. I mean, it didn't look heavy... and, um, there's this thing I do with straight guys. I try to compete with them. Not like "who can drink more beer..." OK, I've done that. More in the way of: " I can do anything you can do better." way. I think this stemmed from Boy Scouts where I just had to compete to stay up to par with the other guys that actually liked doing the stuff Boy Scouts are supposed to like doing. I also think this stems from living in a dorm for a year and a half. I think this also stems from me being hungover in that moment and not thinking clearly.

"Naw, dude. I got it."

"You sure? It's really heavy."

"Um, yeah. I can do this." And then I scoff at him. My eyes are barely open. I am wearing no shoes and my hair looks like I slept upside down.

"OK. Cool." He says as he hands me my signed slip.

And then there was the box.
And, uh, it was heavy.

I stood there shoe-less looking like a mess with a box I could barely even push while shivering in my apartment lobby.

In that moment, I had never felt more helpless. Sure, I have one flight of stairs to get up. Sure, I could have told the UPS man... "Yes, yes I do need help." Sure, I could have not gone out the night before. But you don't think about these things until you are hunched over and scooching a box a centimeter at a time.
So, then, I thought about it. Just for a second I tried to think what I should do... should I tough it out? Should I try to getting a hernia to prove I am a tough guy? Should I call my straight friend Josh(Um, Byron, doesn't that cancel our your whole straight guy issue?) or...

"WAIT!" I yelled to the UPS guy who was half way down the sidewalk to his truck. He turned around with a smile on his face as if he knew this all was going to happen. As if he was counting backwards waiting for me to scream for help.

He helped me. I went back to bed. I learned that you shouldn't lie to your UPS man because a hernia is not worth sucking it up to a bulky straight guy that clearly knows your weight class.