My Worst Fear
One day, I’m going to meet the girl of my dreams. We’re going to fall in love. Spend every moment together. And when we’re not having sex, we’ll have cute little pet names like muffin and boo.
And then we’ll get married and move into a house next to other little houses that look just like mine. And we’ll have dinner at 6:30 and sex once a week until we have two kids a boy and a girl. She’ll play piano and he’ll play little league. Until my son eventually discovers pot and his disdain for authority and crashes my car three times. All while his sister is the perfect angel because that’s all a daughter can be to her father.
And then they’ll go to college and it will be just me and my wife. And every once in a while I’ll come to the sad realization that we don’t like each other anymore and we only have sex once a year on my birthday.
And we’ll continue on this way, never really talking to each other till the day that I drop dead probably masturbating in the kitchen to a Betty Crocker box.
And then I’ll arrive in heaven. And I’ll stand before god and he’ll look at me and say, “I don’t know how you did it. I don’t know how you stayed married to one person your whole life? I never said that people should actually get married. That’s something that you guys made up. I gave you millions of girls to sleep with and you wasted it all. And in that moment he’ll send me down to hell, alone. Alone for eternity to lament on all the girls I should have slept with, but didn’t.
