The Plan for My Life
With that in mind, I’m developing a plan for the rest of my life. While the specific details still need to be hammered out (I’ve got an entire life to plan, this takes time), it goes a little something like this:
Currently I am a 29 y/o, SWM with a marginally interesting job that I see turning into a soul-crushing, sojourn into middle age if I don’t do something about it soon. I was planning on making a big change with my life, like running off to Budapest for 2 years and teaching English, which is ironic, because as is obvious by my post; I can’t use it very well myself.
Anyhow, this is what I WAS planning on doing. Now I’ve decided to stay at my current job and just run with all the awful things that will eventually happen to me.
As I said, I’m currently single and I don’t see that changing any time soon. I’m getting about as much right now as a Jew gets presents on Christmas, which is to say: Nothing.
I figure that if these current trends hold, in a couple of years I’ll be terribly lonely and stuck in a go nowhere job that I hate. This makes me ripe pickings for the first evil, soulless, controlling woman that lays her flesh-tearing talons in me. Since I’ll be horribly desperate and miserable, I’ll happily accept her company.
Eventually we’ll get married and I’ll be the sorriest, hen-picked bastard you’ve ever seen.
At some point, the combination of her and my job will so have thoroughly crushed my spirit that I’ll just stop caring and let myself go. It will start off benign enough. I’ll put on a few extra pounds in the mid-section and start wearing nothing but pants with elastic waistbands during the weekends. These pants will be the only new clothes I purchase for the next 20 years and I’ll become that guy who still dresses like it’s still 1973 (you all know one).
At some point I’m sure we’ll have kids. They’ll be a couple of little monsters. Dad won’t give a damn about them and instead nurturing a relationship based on love and spending time with them, daddy will simply substitute love by buying them whatever they want. They’ll hate me.
Some place around here will be the perfect time for me to have a mid-life crisis. One day while my wife and kids are out further putting the family into debt at the mall, I’ll simply pack up and leave. Not only will I have left that terrible shrew, but it will have the added bonus of also abandoning my children during their formative teenage years. They’ll be destined for a life of abandonment issues, failed relationships and hate their father even more.
Now that I’m back on my own, I’ll move into a townhouse somewhere and purchase a Corvette. I’ll start taking care of myself again (so I think) and start dressing much too young for my age. Of course, I won’t do a good job at it and look like an incredible tool.
At work I’ll start attending happy hours with the younger employees and being that creepy guy who talks about “getting some of that” with the 20-something guys and always staring at the girl’s boobs.
As pathetic as I will be and despite my large alimony payments, I will still make a good living. I may hate my job, but it does provide well. This means that I can always find myself a young, airhead gold digger looking for a sugar daddy.
I’ll buy her a boob-job, a bunch of clothes, a big-ass ring and we’ll get married. The marriage will be a total farce. She’ll sleep with me once every couple of months, but somehow we’ll still end up having a kid. She’ll be a totally unfit mother and I’ll be even more aloof with him/her than I was with my first children whom I never see any more.
One day I’ll come home from work and discover my wife bent over the desk that belonged to my deceased father, happily taking it in the pooper from my best friend and neighbor. In a fit or rage, I’ll do something stupid like slap her and she’ll use this to take me to the cleaners during our divorce.
So there I’ll be: A 55-year-old, shell of a man, with 2 ex-wives, 2 huge alimony payments, a handful of kids who hate me, a drinking problem and absolutely no clue that this makes me a loser. I’ll still think I’ve got it (which is even funnier, because I never had it. I don’t now and I certainly won’t in 26 years).
I’ll still think I’m cool and will take trips to Cancun with my equally uncool, single buddies. We’ll be those guys you see at the clubs dancing like jackasses and trying to pick up 19-year-old girls.
One morning I’ll wake up and realize who I am. It will crush what little dignity I have left. Rather than go through a period of self-examination and personal growth, I’ll just blame the rest of the world. By doing this I’ll manage to alienate the few friends and extended relatives who still associate with me.
I’ll turn into a bitter, crotchety old man. The children who live on my block will be terrified of me. My front yard will become a graveyard of baseballs and Frisbees because they’ll be too terrified to venture onto my property to retrieve them. The children will invent stories about me to scare one-another. They’ll say things like, “Don’t go near old man Messa’s house, I hear he boils kids and eats them!”
As I become more and more of a recluse, I’ll eventually drop out of sight. When I finally do die, nobody will notice. They’ll eventually discover my body when they come to repossess my house because I haven’t paid the mortgage in three months.
The only reason my death will go noticed will be because of a story in the local paper about how they found my 5 malnourished hounds clinging to life by feeding on my rotting corpse.
Yes, this will be my life. I can’t wait! I’m now accepting applications for my first wife. Email me if interested.
this is in or around Anticipation-ville