**WARNING** This post contains information that I do not want anyone that I work with or share DNA with to read. If one or both of these pertains to you, please stop reading right now.
Yesterday I learned some tragic news. My future husband is getting married. To a girl from Oklahoma. I didn't even know that there were girls in Oklahoma.
My future husband was the nicest guy that I met at UTM. He held the door open for you. He would open the car door for you. He never had a harsh word to say about anybody, okay, almost anybody. He had curly hair, and we all know that I'm a sucker for guys with curly hair. He had good teeth, and we all know that I'm a sucker for guys with good teeth.
Towards the end of college, I hardly ever mentioned him by name. He was always known as "my future husband." This was an important position to have filled in case these stellar relationships didn't last:
-Bald guy who quickly realized that he had to get me drunk in order for ANYTHING to happen besides video game playing.
-Closeted gay guy who seemed to forget that I had a vagina too.
-Hairy back guy who hated wearing shirts, but loved sporting that hairy vest.
-Older guy with whom I just barely pass the "half your age plus seven" rule with.
I feel quite vulnerable being without a future husband. Right now all I have is a gay man who wants to have a child with me, but who is also convinced that any child we have will probably be the anti-Christ.
Oh yeah, my future's so bright, I gotta wear shades.
*Alternate title: Dear Ex-Future Husband: Oklahoma girls don't take it up the ass.
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