I know I’m not what you expected in a future son-in-law, but your daughter is marrying a guy with the kind of experiences you can only get on a six-week tour with “Despise You.” I admit we’ve had our differences in the past. You regularly call me “Spaz” with only one “z” when you know damn well my name is “Spazz.” And there was the time I called you a nazi because you didn’t have oat milk. But we can move past these indiscretions because we’re united by our common love of your daughter.
I know you’re worried about a lot of things when it comes to me and your daughter getting hitched. Where are we going to live? How am I going to make money? All valid concerns! But the last thing you should be worried about is my ability to commit. Hell, if I can dedicate 8 years to a powerviolence band, being a faithful husband to your daughter should be a piece of cake.
Stop laughing.
While performing ten minute, twenty-song sets to dozens of people at a time, I learned a lot about sticking to your guns. And that’s exactly why I’m faithful. Trust me, a guy that can resist the tens of women he meets playing shows at shitty bars and VFWs filled with confused townies is in it for the long haul.
Even better than my virtuous monogamy is my ability to provide. After almost a decade in “One Girl, 56 Dogs” I’ve learned that when you’re broke there’s always free ketchup at 7-11. No, seriously! They don’t regulate how many packets you take. Even if you don’t buy anything! As a husband, I’ll be sure there’s always food on the table.
I also know the only two ways to cure a hangover. You can start drinking when you wake up and go on a three-day bender that ends when you go back to work at 7-11 on Monday morning. Or you can absolutely never drink any amount of alcohol in your life. What other guy knows this stuff? You think some dork working in finance and running weekend 5ks while listening to Ed Sheeran knows how to stay sober while helping a 6’4” bass player bong Franzia so his head doesn’t hurt?
I know you want the best for Jamie but our life will be a raging seven-inch split until the environment collapses, fascism envelops the globe, or she realizes I regularly smell like onions. Whichever comes first.