There are so many things in life that you can simply “opt out” of. Meaning you can just decide not to do it anymore—to simply not participate. Hate it? Just stop doing it. Sure, doing so comes with consequences. But often those consequences are rather minor and inconsequential and well worth the upside.
Some personal examples:
I hated dealing with my hair. I was constantly worried that it was out of place, I never found a style that I really liked, and I hated paying for hair products and haircuts. Some people love their hair and see it as an important expression of their own personal style. But that wasn’t me. My hair was always just an annoyance to me. Something I had to deal with. An unwelcome stressor.
So back in my mid-20s, I decided to simply opt-out of all my hair frustrations. I bought a $10 hair trimmer and starting buzzing it to a short length every few weeks. And poof! A bunch of hair-related stress was suddenly gone from my life—forever. I’d never again worry about how my hair would look after wearing my hat, or if it was in the proper place for a date, and I never needed to schedule a haircut again. Forever gone! Incredible.
Sure, the consequence is that perhaps some women wouldn’t date someone lacking long luscious locks. But I doubt they’d be the type of woman I’d want to date anyway, so the actual consequence was rather inconsequential.
Our perceived consequences of opting out are often overinflated. “Oh, you can’t do that,” someone will tell you. But I’ve noticed that the real consequences of opting out of so many things in life are often far more fleeting or inconsequential than originally expected. Even if it’s the wrong decision, it’s a temporary blip, as many of these decisions are easily reversible.
This seems especially true when considering how others feel about something. Sure, they may not like it initially. But that seems to pass quickly. And you might be surprised that your wishes are easily respected.
I despise the uber-consumerism and ubiquitous faux-religiousity of Christmas, so I just opted out of celebrating it. Yeah, my mom really hates that. But it’s not like she stopped loving me; she just doesn’t get to dictate how I spend a particular day each December.
Similarly, a number of my friends were initially incredulous when I told them I wasn’t celebrating Christmas anymore. And it did take a few reminders for the idea to stick in their heads. But the only real consequence of opting out of even that widely-loved holiday is…well, simply that they don’t invite me to Christmas parties, or to go see Christmas lights, or similar stuff I didn’t want to do anyway. Which is to say, exactly the outcome I was hoping for.
Instead, they’ll simply arrange Christmas-related events with my wife instead. Yeah, my wife loves Christmas. Sigh… But that doesn’t mean I have to. And it doesn’t mean she can’t, either.
So, we’ve worked out how I can nearly entirely opt-out, while she can nearly fully opt-in. Sometimes you need to compromise a bit to accommodate people you love; there’s often a middle ground that accomplishes enough of what you both want.
Here’s what that looks like. She really wanted a Christmas tree, but I see my home as essentially the only escape from Christmas I can get. So we bought a “holiday saguaro” (aka, fake Christmas tree shaped like a saguaro) and only decorate it with souvenirs we get from our travels. She gets a lit “tree” in the corner of the living room that still roughly evokes the childhood memories she wants, and I get another way to be reminded of our travels and my love of the Sonoran Desert. Win-win.
Similarly, the very last place I want to hear Christmas music is at home—my sole xmas-free zone. But Jen enjoys it, at least for a few doses when she’s in the mood. The solution here is dead simple: she just listens to them with headphones on, or when I’m out of the house (or car).
Ahh, but the family gift giving! Hard to get around that, right? Well, yes and no. The compromise here is that all her family understands that Scott doesn’t really do Christmas. But I will (usually with repeated reminders) put together a short “gift list” that her family can shop from. And Jen takes care to buy everyone else gifts on our (read: my) behalf. We then do a long video call while we catch up and open presents (ugh) on or around Christmas. I’m not a fan, but it’s one of the few “family get togethers” we have, so it’s totally fine. Again, I get to almost entirely opt-out of the parts I don’t like.
Oh, but what about gifts for my wife? Well, I dislike shopping in general and am not good at picking out “the perfect” gift for someone. So I just opted out of buying birthday and anniversary gifts. Instead, I simply bring out friends and loved ones for a meal or drinks, and Jen and I take a trip for our anniversary and birthdays instead. Of course we’d prefer trips to gifts—have you met us?
And if I happen to run across something cool that I think someone would appreciate during the year, I’ll just buy and gift it—which is usually more meaningful than sending some sort of expected gift.
Of course, these are just some personal examples. You can opt-out of LOTS of things. Pop culture. Social media. Religion. Movies. TV Shows. Music. Smartphones. Sports. Holidays. Tons of things. Even things you previously loved. I opted out of watching the NFL after it became a time sink for me. And I opted out of being an ASU superfan when it no longer provided the same enjoyment it used to. Again, you can opt out of soooo many things.
That said: opting out of some things is very much not worth it. Please keep paying your taxes, feeding your baby, and brushing your teeth.
But for many things? Yeah, you really can just opt out.
Webnotes
- Jeremy Cherfas has a fun story about when he opted-out of haircare.