I Really Dodged A Bullet

Despite my commitment to the swinging bachelor lifestyle, I came close to making the entirely wrong kind of commitment when I was younger: marriage. Hard to believe, given how level-headed and sensible I am, but sadly true.

The year was 1985. I had just turned 25, my beloved Ronald Reagan was bombing the shit out of anyone who looked at us funny, and that Kenyan-born socialist dictator who currently parades around as president was probably receiving deep cover training from his al Qaeda handlers. It was a simpler time, to be sure.

As to the woman in question, her name was Karina Antoinette Bartholomew-Higgins, of the St. Barts Bartholomew-Higginses. If you’re familiar with that name then you know that she was the offspring of one of the wealthiest families in the Western hemisphere. I believe her old man, Lord Cromwell, made his fortune in pharmaceuticals and weapons development, but I can’t swear to it. I only met him twice, and he wasn’t prone to discussing business with outsiders.

But I digress. Ah, Karina! She was quite the beauty in those days, with an ass you could bounce gold doubloons off of (which I did, frequently) and tits that were perkier than a national cheerleading competition. It’s hard to say why we broke up, really. At the time, she blamed it on the whores she caught me in bed with one night, but just between you and me? I’m fairly certain that she was a lesbian.

Anyhow, the point of all this is that I recently tracked her down on Facebook,* and was quite pleased to discover that she now has more chins than a Hong Kong graveyard. Not to mention a mustache. And it looks like someone replaced her teeth with small pieces of corn. I can only imagine what happened to her world-class ass; I suspect that looking at it today would sooner summon images of P.B. Shelley’s “Ozymandias” than an erection.

At any rate, I hope my near-mistake will serve as a lesson to any lovestruck young fools considering marriage. Remember that the cow you buy will eventually wither and nauseate you, whereas the milk you get for free will always stay the same age. Assuming you can afford the good stuff, that is.

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* Yes, I have a Facebook account. No, I won’t “friend” you. Moreover, I use a fake name so as to avoid having people like you contact me, so don’t even try.

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Categories: Dating, Motivation

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