The Captain - Fucking History - 52 Lessons You Should Have Learned in School

Few things in life will make you feel as dumb as “getting ghosted.” But you know what? Getting ghosted is a fucking blessing. Anybody who won’t give you the courtesy of giving it to you straight is somebody you don’t need in your life anyway. So, if you do get ghosted, keep doing your thing and make sure the person who ghosted you lives to absolutely fucking regret it. Be like Edith Wharton.

By the year 1905, Edith had already made quite a name for herself as an author and wordsmith. Sadly, her literary success did not carry into her marriage. And, like unhappily married people have been known to do, she had an affair. It began in 1906 with a kindred spirit she’d found in another writer by the name of William Morton Fullerton. Edith was head over heels for this guy and thought for sure he was the soulmate most people only ever dream of meeting. Unfortunately, the affair was short-lived when Fullerton disappeared on her sometime in 1908. Yep, he straight ghosted her ass.

Over the years, she did what she could to find him and make contact by writing hundreds of letters — yes, hundreds — in an attempt to get some closure, but Fuckboy Fullerton never bothered to even give her a response. Realizing love was dumb, and Fullerton was even dumber, she eventually gave up and got on with her life. In 1913, Edith divorced her husband and moved to France. There, she continued to write, and in 1916, she received a French Legion of Honor award for her work during the war.

In 1921, she became THE FIRST WOMAN EVER to win the Pulitzer Prize with her novel, “The Age of Innocence.” Like a boss, she never remarried and spent the rest of her life living and writing in the French Riviera with her dogs, her garden, and her close friends. She even went on to receive three Nobel Prize nominations before her death in 1937.

And, what did Fullerton do with his life? Not much. His claim to fame was dating Edith, and the letters she wrote to him were eventually published in a book. Yeah, although he didn’t respond, he received and saved every one — all 400 of ’em. (Huh, suddenly sending five texts in a row doesn’t seem so bad.)

You see, getting ghosted is not the end of the world. If someone ghosts you, haunt their ass with your success. Or, just get, like, super fucking attractive. Either way, you win — they lose.

Cold, calculated, patient, deliberate — no, I’m not describing a serial killer— I’m describing your girlfriend. Albeit, the characteristics of both are eerily similar, and this is why girls are scary as fuck. I know this, you know this, and the Soviets knew it back in the 1940s.

You see, during WWII, the Red Army recognized the close correlation between females and serial killers, so they began to heavily recruit women to become snipers. And, they were right to do so. Women were fucking naturals at that shit. They’d hand a gal a gun and tell her to pretend every Nazi soldier was her ex-boyfriend. Basically, anyone on the wrong end of her rifle didn’t stand a chance. It was like handing a shark a fucking chainsaw and telling it to go make some sushi: It was a bloodbath. I mean, if you think your girlfriend is cunning and patient now because she’ll wait 13 hours to pick a fight with you about something you said earlier in the day, imagine how cunning and patient she’d be in a life-or-death situation. Yeah, it’s fucking sketchy. But also, it’s pretty fucking awesome because tough girls are rad. During the war, the Soviets enlisted 2,484 female snipers. Who, together, killed an estimated 11,280 men — let’s meet one of these ladies.

Allow me to introduce Lyudmila Pavlichenko, a.k.a. “Lady Death.” Lyudmila was studying history at Kiev University when she volunteered for the Red Army in 1941. Think of it this way, while college students these days are taking it in the ass, both figuratively and literally — you know, with student loan interest rates, weird boyfriends, and whatnot — Lyudmila was out cappin’ ass. Just how many asses did Lyudmila cap? 309. Yes, three hundred and fucking nine. Her kill count rivals your bank account.

Lyudmila was the definition of a strong, independent woman who didn’t need a man. Besides, if she had one, she’d probably fucking kill him anyway. After the war, Lyudmila even went back to school to finish her college degree, picking up right where she’d left off. This, combined with her military prowess, makes her perhaps the most badass woman to have ever lived. I’d wife her in a heartbeat if she hadn’t have died in 1974.

Guys, let this war story be a lesson to you: Your girlfriend was born with the ability to fucking kill you. So, be nice.

You’re a fucking catch. And, any dude you date should act like it. He’s lucky to have you and he should be proud to show you off without caring about what others think or say. He should be exactly like King Pedro (a.k.a. Peter I of Portugal).

Here’s his story: After the death of his first wife in 1345, which was an arranged marriage, Pedro married a young woman by the name of Inês de Castro — against his father’s wishes. You see, Pedro was only a prince at the time, so whatever his father said was law. And, his father, King Afonso IV, absolutely did not approve of Pedro’s marriage to Inês. Why all the commotion and disdain for the union? Well, Inês was not of royal blood; thus, she offered no strategic or political advantage to the kingdom or family reputation (which was a big deal back in the day).

Now, King Afonso wasn’t about to just sit back and let his son disobey him like this. So, he hired three men to kidnap Inês, hold her hostage, and well, cut off her fucking head. (And you thought your dad overreacted when you brought your first boyfriend home in high school.)

After learning what his dad had done, Pedro swore revenge. But again, he was still just a little prince at the time and didn’t hold the power necessary to retaliate against his father. However, fortunately for Pedro, he didn’t have to wait too long to inherit that power. King Afonso died in 1357, just a couple years after Inês’ murder, and Pedro became the new King of Portugal. King Pedro’s first order of business? Make good on his revenge promise — but how?

Well, he tracked down the three men his father had hired to kill Inês and had their hearts removed while they were still alive. Because, as he claimed, they had done the same to him when they killed Inês. (Pretty emo move if you ask me, but I can respect it.) Then, Pedro had Inês’ body exhumed, dressed in royal cloth, and seated next to him on a throne as the rightful queen. Yeah, that’s how proud Pedro was of her. Dead, without makeup, and with no fucking eyebrows (but probably with some kick-ass skeleton contouring), Pedro still wanted to show her off. So much so that he forced the entire kingdom to form a line, bow, and kiss her bony, dead hands. Now THAT’S a dude who’s proud of his relationship and truly doesn’t give a fuck about what others think.

(It’s worth noting that Pedro went on to become a complete psychopath of a king, known for his affinity for torture, brutality, and living heart removal. But, let’s not focus on that — let’s focus on how proud he was to be married to Inês, and how little he cared about the opinions of others.)