You know what’s a fun way to pass the time? The classic old conversation game of Fuck Marry Kill! You know how it works, everyone goes around in a circle and has to decide whether they would fuck, marry, or kill a wacky group of individuals. Like, would you fuck Barney Rubble, marry Mr. Slate, and kill Dino? Wild!
However, I don’t really have anything going on right now and I will let you know right now that any choice you make regarding me is totally fine. Fuck me, marry me, kill me, I am literally and equally fine with any of them.
Seriously, you can do whatever. It’s cool.
I used to be the kind of person that had strong opinions about whether I was going to have sex or be murdered or even be in a supportive and loving marriage for the rest of my life. I acted like it was the biggest deal in the world when someone got in the old sex Plymouth with me and took a drive around the fuck-block. But the older I get, the more I realize we force ourselves to make artificial choices as though we had any choice over our destinies.
You see, it is ultimately not you who will fuck, marry, or kill me. It’s just fate.
Ever since that day when I was left at the altar by my former fiance Helen, the love of my life, then had sex with an individual whose name I am pretty sure was Meridoc in the restroom of the Dave & Buster’s nearest to that fateful white sand beach in Key West, and then was legally dead for nearly four minutes after striking my head on a turtle, I realized there is really not too much difference between all of those experiences.
All of those things helped me become the person I am today, and I value them equally. Even the turtle.
Since then, I’ve lived my life in freedom, always offering anybody I meet the opportunity to have two minutes of pleasure with me, complete the surprisingly bureaucratic process of matrimonial paperwork, or watch the light fade from my eyes with their white-knuckled hands around my throat. I could not be happier with the choices I allow others to make. And I could not care less which of them it is.
So what’s it going to be, friend?