Ever think things in your life are going along just a little too splendidly? Surrounded by so much bliss you are left wondering when the doom filled end will come barreling through the door? Well, I do it all the time. Case in point: my relationship with my boyfriend. He is sweet, smart, fun and endlessly supportive. We get along well, rarely fight and when we do argue we argue in an intelligent and respectful manner. He loves to do just about anything even the occasional shopping trip doesn’t send him into an epileptic seizure. Oh and he doesn’t watch sports on television. Perfect. I know it’s sickening. Of course he has his flaws, everyone does. Most of Bob’s flaws are related to romanticism. But let’s be realistic here, this is life, not a harlequin romance novel. With all of that in mind, we are left with the near perfect relationship. Ah you say no relationship is perfect? So do I. [Insert Jaws shark attack music] And not being one to let a moment pass without contemplating some imaginary horrific end to any happiness that happens to stroll through my door, I envision the grisly demise. Here are just a few of those endlessly fascinating yet thoroughly nauseating scenarios:

1. I receive a call from the producers at the Jerry Springer show inviting me to the taping of the episode entitled “Surprise, someone you know is a cross-dresser and he is secretly dating your mother!”
2. He finally unpacks all of the boxes in his garage and invites me to see the unveiling of his Demi Moore shrine.
3. He decides it would be a swell idea to use our vacation time for a North American tour of all things PEZ.
4. Two words: klepto maniac. I locate the 5 missing cans of tomato and rice soup stolen from my pantry, in the trunk of his car. And yes kleptomaniac is in fact one word, the separation of which is a technique I am using to emphasize the horrific nature of the discovery. Work with me here.

But honestly, at this point there really is no salaciously gruesome end of us in sight. And try as I may to sabotage things (such a nasty little habit) the relationship remains in a peaceful bliss filled state.

Oh, hold on a sec… It’s him on the phone. He wants to borrow my Kate Spade bag and he needs my mother’s cell phone number and favorite color.

Share This