Tonight I am in bed before 8 p.m. and eating my feelings. Sometimes the only distraction from a bad day is my fluffy bathrobe, a jar of Nutella and a bag of salt and vinegar chips.

Because today, I crashed my car.

If you have known me for more than 20 minutes, then you know this is not the first time. You probably know this is not the worst time, either.

I could explain what happened, but it’s not really worth it.

In my life I have a whole lot of people who think I can do anything because I dabble in just about everything. And I walk about carrying this funny expectation that I can be a little bit good at a lot of things. (It’s exhausting.)

But there are two things I am really not good at: dating and driving.

My car insurance company will attest that I do not have a decent driving record. And my dating history is nearly as tragic (though less painful, for sure). I’m starting to think they both stem from the same place: my inability to sit still and focus.

The reason I can be a little bit good at a lot of things is because I learn quickly and can be hyper-attentive and detail-oriented (for a short period of time). I diligently learn a new skill, power through several projects and then set it aside to learn something new. But neither driving, nor dating work this way.

Driving was fun and new many, many moons ago. I still parallel park like a wizard and I’m not afraid of stopping my manual transmission on steep hills. I obviously get the basics. But I spend so much of my life driving that I find my mind just wandering to the next task so easily—even on the 2-mile drive home from work.

I’m kind of like this when I date, too. The first few dates are so fun. Yay! New shiny thing! It’s like a new hobby—I am full questions and also full of stories to share. I think EVERYTHING YOU DO IS SO INTERESTING! But then, a few dates in, I start to let my reckless, ambitious brain wander and the person at the opposite side of the dinner table is just not interesting enough to bring me back. I start thinking about the comedy routine I should finish writing and the remodel I want to do in my kitchen (yes, I already want to remodel my 9-month old house) and that toll fine I have to pay and and and …

So … while I’m out in la la land I’m also mindlessly following the idiot in front of me who blazes through a red light. Who else blazes through the red light? Me. Only I didn’t exactly blaze through. I sort of barreled into the cute little green car that had the right of way.

I’m a moron.

I know.

I would trade all of my other skills and abilities just to be a decent driver.

But alas, you can’t have everything.

For now, screaming helps.