11:23 PM >> MIA

It is very interesting, this marriage thing. On the one hand, you have found your soulmate. You will never be alone. You get to wear a special, magical ring. Work it right and you get to raise children.

But on the other hand, you will never break up again. You won't be dumped, get crushed, or have your heart ripped out, shat upon, and stuffed back down your fucking throat as you wash it down by choking on your own tears. You will never feel the pain of immeasurable heartbreak, even if, really, it was only two months. You won't, as The Streets say, stare straight down at the ground, look a little to the left, then stare straight down again. You won't feel your insides crumble to nothing or your guts boil into an interminable rage over that stupid-ass thing you did to cause all this. You won't lie awake at night, an endless stream of what-ifs ribboning out in front of you as you wonder how you could possibly have fucked it all up. You won't get slapped in the face with the sobering realization that it wasn't any one specific thing you did--none of those things were significant enough to cause this, but the series of insignificant nothings that you did (or did not, as the case may be) do built upon one another and slowly, almost imperceptibly, forced her into the corner of leaving you and your face and your love behind. You won't fill page after page of your journal with all those questions you wish to fucking god you had asked when she did this to you. You won't write those fake, mean, incisive, witty, pointless letters that you know damn will you will never have the courage to mail. You won't work up the courage to call her up and try to worm your way back into it. You'll never stand, staring at the phone for the better part of the hour, trying to grow the balls necessary to pick up the phone and call "just to see what she's up to." You won't worry she's moved on. You won't sweat at work, worrying that this time, it really, truly, seriously, for real, no shit, ain't fucking around, actually, for once and for all, really, really, REALLY is over. Done. Finito. El fuckarola.

You won't seek closure. You won't move on. You won't drown your sorrows. You won't piss it all away in vain trying to recapture what once was. You won't fall back into something completely fucked up for the both of you just because it's easy and comfortable and feels good. You won't go to that first party, thinking for some reason you'll find the "next one" at your very first social outing since you were floored and skinned and left for dead (emotionally, of course). You won't be set up by friends on crappy dates or shot down in bars by crappy skanks.

And I almost miss all this. Isn't that just fucked. All these shitty-ass, depressing ordeals and emotions are gone, and I feel like I'm missing something. Sounds like I'm the one with the problem here. Maybe it stems from middle child syndrome--the fact that I'm afraid of having anything taken away from me. But I needn't worry about losing these experiences. For one, good riddance. For two, whatever hole is left in my soul by the atrophy of these experiences will no doubt be replaced by all of the future, never-before-experienced experiences I will have because I am married.

Things like being on a team. Wearing a magic ring. Seeing that baby pop his grody little head outta the womb. (Note: The first pictures I send out to everyone of my baby will be labeled "Straight Outta Da Womb!") Creating a home together. All of the other kid things. And all that jazz. Yada yada yada. I've rambled too far; I've run outta steam. Time for some more coal (read: beer).