I like to fight. Who knew?

Clara’s school assignment was to write a food recipe, and if possible, make the food.

She chose braided challah.

I told Clara that if I had been given the assignment, I would’ve opted for canned cranberry sauce. Or a bottle of Diet Coke. Maybe a lollipop. I would’ve subverted the teacher’s expectations. Zigged when others zagged. Attempted to be intentionally annoying.

As I told Clara about my cranberry sauce/Diet Coke/lollipop idea, she asked, “Why are you like this?”

Why would I choose to subvert expectations? Why do I take so much pleasure in challenging the status quo? Why am I constantly finding ways to dissemble, disobey, and disagree whenever possible?

Why did my mother spend my entire childhood calling me “The Instigator?”

I thought that perhaps it’s simply attention seeking behavior. A childhood spent not getting the attention I desired resulted in someone who is always looking to do things a little differently.

I asked Elysha what she thought. She often seems to know me better than anyone.

Her response was immediate:

“Yes,” she said. “That desire for attention is real, and yes, it’s probably the result of childhood going unnoticed by adults. That’s true.”

I was pleased to hear I was correct.

“But,” she added. “You’re also always looking for a fight. You try to find ways to argue about anything.”

She explained that I enjoy creating discomfort and disagreement. I look for opportunities where I can force someone to confront a situation that exceeds expected boundaries. These situations are always good for me, she explained, because it provokes conflict, big or small, and opens up a space where I can excel.

Essentially, I’m good at fighting, so I try to do it as often as possible.

Elysha believes that I would’ve used canned cranberry sauce for my recipe because doing so would’ve afforded me the opportunity to debate its merits with my teacher. It would’ve allowed me to debate and argue and rhetorically spar with an opponent.

All things I admittedly enjoy.

I think she might be right. Also, this had never occurred to me.

But I’m always deeply disappointed when some jackass or ignoramus has spouted off and I wasn’t present to fire back. I get upset when someone tells me about some act of stupidity or cruelty that I just missed. And I’m always saying, “Why didn’t someone say that to me!” when someone describes being insulted or verbally assaulted.

I’m also constantly coaching people on effective comebacks and strategies for verbal sparring. I teach my own children to listen carefully when someone is attacking you, because the words they are saying are so often easily turned against your opponent. I advise children (and sometimes adults) on effective ways of silencing a bully. I even wrote a list of strategies to use against Donald Trump’s debate tactics during the 2016 Presidential debates and send it to the Clinton campaign.

I think Elysha’s right. I’m often cutting against the grain in hopes of provoking conflict.

I like to fight.

There are, of course, other times when I fail to conform to expectations without looking for a fight.

I wrote a book comprised entirely of lists, but certainly not to engage in argument or debate with my editor or readers.

I teach Shakespeare to my fifth graders, but not because I want to debate the merits with my students or their parents.

I attended an all-woman’s college in order to earn degrees in English and elementary educations simultaneously.

I’ve never tasted coffee, but only because avoiding it has made my life so much simpler.

But I also became a fan of the New York Yankees while growing up near Boston simply to spite my stepfather.

I taught myself to read upside down in middle school simply to irritate teachers.

I joined a lawsuit against Donald Trump in order to force him to unblock me on Twitter just so I could tell him exactly how I felt about his bigoted, asinine self.

Those feel very much like deliberate opportunities to argue and debate with others.

So yes, I would’ve chosen canned cranberry sauce for Clara’s assignment because doing so might garner me some attention. I’d also find the opportunity to present the idea to my teacher and classmates highly amusing.

But I also think I’d relish the opportunity to defend me choice while simultaneously pointing out the flaws and loopholes in the teacher’s lesson design and assignment rubric. I’d be hoping for a debate. A clashing of wills. An opportunity to battle it out with someone in authority.

As a storyteller, I am deeply curious about myself. “Why do I do the things that I do?” is a question I ask myself constantly, and it often results in a newfound understanding of self and an excellent story.

For someone deeply curious about himself, there is nothing better than being married to someone who seems to know you far better than you sometimes know yourself.