Several of my friends recently noted that I was their “fun” friend. The go-to friend to plan outings to have a good time. Thanks, I said. But then it got me thinking–what was it about me that was “fun?” I really thought for a second they’d say it was because I drink. A lot. Thankfully that wasn’t one of their answers, but they weren’t very helpful. They said I do fun things, I’m fun, I’m not boring. Thanks. Really, I’m glad I can bring smiles to people’s faces. But I really wanted to know how, and why, I was in the fun category as opposed to another category. Because truth be told, I’ve never considered myself to be a fun person. Don’t get me wrong, I try to have fun, but I always thought my other friends were the fun ones, the cool ones, the daring ones, the adventurous ones. I always thought I was a bit dull and boring–at best run-of-the-mill.

The dictionary defines fun as: providing entertainment, amusement, or enjoyment.

Ah, OK. I get it. Random shit happens to me so my life stories can provide great entertainment. I am a smidge impulsive, so in that way I can see how I amuse people. But enjoyment–now that resonates with me. Perhaps people think I’m “fun” because I enjoy. I enjoy life, I enjoy experiencing things. I’m a planner, but I don’t need things to go perfectly. I am open to opportunities as life unfolds–to stumbling down alleyways in new cities to discover where those smells are coming from. I see things. I hear things. And I think, “Why not?” It may never have occurred to me before to try it, but then I think, “Huh. Bet I can!”

The other night, I went out with a friend for a low-key dinner. We had a nice meal, some good wine. Then she mentioned there was a bar down the street with a mechanical bull. She had me at “mechanical.” I mean really, where in tarnation (or the suburbs at least) are you going to find a flipping mechanical bull, of all things?? There was no way I was passing that up. I may never be thisclose to one ever again in my life!

Alright, in reality, it’s ridiculous. I had the hardest time getting ON the damn thing. I had to keep hopping up and down like I was on a trampoline to get enough momentum to mount the stupid bull. I however had a much easier time getting OFF the bull. I was promptly thrown off after oh, one second each time? I would be an unemployable rodeo cowboy. But boy was it fun!

I suppose if you’re open to trying new things, and not letting fears dictate your decisions, then that’s fun? Or is it that I just enjoy being in the moment and being with the people around me? I guess I still don’t know what makes me “fun”–I’m not a risk-taker, I’m not an adrenaline fiend. But I’m apparently the one who organizes a lot of outings and is open to looking like a fool. Funny how self-perceptions can be so different from others’ perceptions. Think of the “fun” people in your life–what is it that makes him/her fun?