Seriously, it is not. Rather, this is about something I and many others have been thinking ever since the news broke about Sarah Palin’s 17-year-old daughter Bristol’s pregnancy and pending nuptials. It’s the same thought I had when we read that Jamie-Lynn Spears is set to marry the father of her newborn daughter, and the same thought I’ve had while watching Engaged & Underaged, which is by turns hilarious, heartbreaking, and horrifying. It’s a terrifying thought – where would we all be now if we were forced to marry the person we were banging at age 17?
I’m not necessarily implying that these kids in particular are being forced into making a commitment they are too immature and ill-prepared to fully grasp (I’m thinking it, though). Even removing babies from the equation, how ready can these teenagers really be to undertake the monumental challenge of marriage? Almost ten years on, I consider age 17 to be a pivotal year in my personal development, and wouldn’t hesitate to say that I am a very different person than I was back then. As difficult and exhilirating as the ensuing years have been, I don’t believe that having a husband by my side would have made life easier. I think it would have been a drain, an albatross around my neck the size of Alaska. I have no doubt I would have enthusiastically committed adultery, and probably been divorced by the time I was 20 (and I’m being generous with myself). I would feel stifled, cheated, resentful, and I wouldn’t blame my child-husband for feeling the exact same way.
Now, I am not everyone, but it doesn’t seem unfair to propose that in the contemporary Western world, teenage marriage is not only unneccessary but a straight-up crap idea. The odds of the marriage surviving are not in your favor, and for good reason: People change, and they change a hell of a lot in adolescence and in the subsequent years before 30. There are so many firsts to experience in this amount of time… education, jobs, apartments, travel, romance, heartbreak, sex, love. Your childhood is only the first few stepping-stones in your development as an individual human bean, and why would you want to limit your experiences so drastically by saddling yourself with a commitment that impacts every facet of your life?
But onto my point. Some of us weren’t banging anybody at age 17, and others of us (like me) might have a few options to choose from, so here’s the game: Describe what you think your life would be like now, good or bad, if you had married your teenage lover. To kick off, here are my three possibilities:
1) The European Ph.D.
This is my favorite. I did meet the love of my young life at age 16. Six years older than me, he was gorgeous, brilliant, and spoke very good English. We carried on a passionate two-and-a-half-year, trans-Atlantic love affair, until he ultimately broke my heart when the distance became too much (status of heart: still broken, actually, but I probably only cry about it five times a year or so, which is a drastic improvement; although, I have only two pictures framed in my apartment, and one is of my mother and one is of Him&Me, so, that’s… embarrassing).
Verdict: We would be living in Scandanavia (assuming I did not hang myself in our first studio flat due to despondence and bad weather), probably still married, however we both would have cheated once or twice. We would have one child by now, and he/she would be gorgeous and brilliant as well. I would have nagged him for years to get a real job, as he is a perpetual student and lived for way too long on hand-outs from his parents, and this would be a cause of strife between us. I would have developed a hidden drinking problem, but kicked it for the kid. We would be extremely hip, urban parents, but spend long weekends in the countryside, participating in athletic activities like hiking and fishing. One of us would have a beard. I would harbor a constant blackness in my heart because he would refuse to move to the US and I would hardly ever see my family. Ultimately, maybe, we would be happy, but that is probably wishful thinking. Distinct possibility of separate beds later in life, like his parents, as we grow alienated and I turn back to drink as the kid leaves the nest, but we’ve been together so long we are like intertwined, dying tree roots underground. Or, better scenario, we are soulmates and we grow old and wizened together and live until our nineties, always in love, like his grandparents. Yes, let’s go with the latter, because he is the one guy for whom I am still a sap.
2) The Ivy-League Lawyer
Tumultuous. I would be a pedigree wife, because ILL husband would have the money and the will to ensure that I was constantly plucked, groomed, waxed, manicured, and gymnacized within an inch of my life. I would have a not-so-hidden prescription drug addiction. He would be sleeping with at least one other woman at his firm, and I would have a brief revenge affair with his brother; everyone would know about all these things, but they would only be acknowledged through extreme passive-aggressiveness. I would convert to Judaism and our two children, probably boys, would be taken to Temple. His mother would still hate me. We would live on the East Coast and go to punk shows. Lots of slamming doors and jewelry.
Verdict: Fantastically violent sex followed by periods of mutual frigidity, and an ultimate divorce in our fifties, after which he would take a trophy girlfriend who is the spitting image of myself at age 25. Extreme love/hate and possible murder/suicide, or at least a nasty, lucrative divorce. Smart, anguished, and over-achieving children who love me more but contantly seek Daddy’s approval. Potential for resigned reconciliation in our later years due to grudging affection and familiarity. Children still never recover and become nervous adults.
3) The Horrible Loser Rapey Druggie Loser
He would be in jail or dead and I would continue to hate him.
September 16, 2008 at 3:31 pm
As I didn’t really have a man at age 17, I’ll use the guy I lost my virginity to as mine:
We’d be living in the same city where we went to college. After realizing his dreams of playing professional basketball were just that, dreams, he’d reluctantly use his degree to get a job as a chemist to support us.
We’d have two kids, whom I’d mostly care for, as he’d be carousing with his friends most weekends and some week nights. Sometimes, he wouldn’t come home, and I’d sit up, as I had for years, crying and drinking, hoping he’d return or at least call.
The children would spend their childhood cowering in their rooms during our frequent and loud fights. He’d cheat repeatedly, while I’d stray but once–but would always hold a candle for that man who’d show me I was still beautiful and worthy.
We’d end up sleeping in separate beds, spending our waking hours sniping at each other or watching TV in silence.
Oh, and he’d also try to sneak it in my ass repeatedly, as he was THAT GUY.
September 16, 2008 at 3:39 pm
Let’s see…boyfriend at 17 had neither a job nor a license, so lets pretend we got hitched. I wouldn’t have left for college, opting to attend the community college back home to save money. We would live near our parents in an apartment for years due to his lack of employment (jobs are booorriinggg) and my meager income. I would grow to be resentful from having to shoulder the responsibility of growing up while he chose to bum around with his friends, reliving the glory days of high school and trying to create the perfect drinking game. Frustrated with the way my life turned out, I would be completely gray at 25 and then divorced. Outlook not good.
Thankfully, we broke up my freshman year of college. Haven’t looked back since.
September 16, 2008 at 3:40 pm
@DZ: I just snorted out loud.
September 16, 2008 at 3:59 pm
hmm, boyfriend from 17…we never banged, but if we had gotten married then, i’d probably….be cheating on him with my now-girlfriend? yes.
September 16, 2008 at 3:59 pm
Where would I be?
Let’s see — he was dumb as hell; I had to write his English essays.
He wasn’t terribly attractive and had an odd pear-shaped body.
He was lousy in the sack.
He cheated on me on spring break in Daytona Beach and then, while drunk, taunted me about it because he had a mean streak.
So where would I be? I’d be in jail or very happily divorced.
September 16, 2008 at 4:11 pm
I loved (like, LOVED) my boyfriend at 17. We were supposed to sleep together after my mom & stepdad’s wedding (21 June), but instead he broke up with me on the day my best friend graduated (14 June). He was a college freshman studying “commercial economy”.
His father would still have did in February the next year, and there’s a good chance that might’ve broken us up, because I didn’t know how to deal (yes, we remained friends, we worked together). But if it didn’t…
He’d have some type of sales job, because he was such a smooth talker. We wouldn’t have any kids, because I’d be in no way, shape or form ready for that.
His flirting with other women would have driven me insane. He was the only guy who ever sparked jealousy in me. He wouldn’t have cheated, I might have. I’d still love to hate and hate to love his ex.
Our sex life would’ve been completely inadequate, since he had little regard for my feelings (dry-humping months after the break-up, suuuuure).
We would be divorced by now, I have no doubt about it. His overactive social life would have driven me batshit, my cocooning would have made him insane. We were good for eachother for those 6 months in 2000, it took me three whole years to get over him, but I’m very happy I was never tempted into an early marriage.
Also, he was my last serious bit. I SO need a boyfriend y’all!
September 16, 2008 at 4:17 pm
I would be a widow. Alas.
I have to say that I believe there are some women out there who know at the age of 17 that they want to be married and they want to be mothers. My best friend was married at 17. She’s a highly intelligent person. And she just really wanted to be a mom and settle down. She’s still married. She has two kids. And she did manage to finish college and has a career. So while it isn’t always a gloriously happy ending in stories like this, it has worked out for several people I know.
September 16, 2008 at 4:22 pm
@Bethville: I know one person who married her first lover, and almost twenty years later, they are happy, giggly newlyweds in manner. So I’ve seen the evidence that it can happen. I just know they’re a rare species, kind of a charming freakshow. And WAY co-dependent, although, it would be hypocritical to be toooooo harsh on that. Good for them, honestly.
September 16, 2008 at 4:46 pm
I was a late bloomer. I got nothing…
September 16, 2008 at 4:49 pm
@Becky: You can still play. Go with your first. My first is now married to a lawyer and living in Ohio. Mundanity abounds.
September 16, 2008 at 4:49 pm
@Bethville, @tailfeather: My older sister is one of those. Got married at 18, first baby at 19, still married and totally in love 26 years later. But they are the exception to the rule, for sure.
September 16, 2008 at 5:06 pm
I had my life mapped out at 17 with my first love. He was going to be a lawyer and we were going to live in Virginia. We were going to have two children, Steven and Catherine (um, yea,we discussed that). And they both had his cute nose (yes, we discussed that too). I probably would have had previously mentioned prescrip. med. addiction because I would have been very, very bored and we both had a tendancy to piss each other off with passive-aggressive immature behavior.
September 16, 2008 at 5:34 pm
Man, Tailfeather, yours are brilliant.
“One of us would have a beard.” So so so so funny.
September 16, 2008 at 5:58 pm
@trixie: Did you catch the “sap” pun??? LIKE A TREE! Oh my god. This is what comes of posting while drinking.
September 16, 2008 at 6:16 pm
Well, this one’s easy, because I actually did it. We had 2 and a half pretty blissful years, having become happily estranged from his abusive mother. Around the third year of marriage, he suddenly started transforming into a young male version of said abusive mother, and after several years of marriage counseling and attempts to hold it together on my part (I’m not a quitter, people!) I finally caught him in my house with another woman hiding in my closet and became a 22-year-old divorcee. I paid for the divorce myself, with the first check from a sample pack that came with my new bank account; it was decorated with some wolves in front of a pine tree and a full moon. I spent a few months drinking too much and blew my 4.0 GPA by earning three A minuses, but was (except for anger about those damn A minuses) much, much happier. I am now a relatively normal 22-year-old about to graduate with my BFA degree with a 3.98-repeating GPA, who has now experienced much, MUCH better sex than my ex-husband was ever capable of.
I think this story would be much more exciting if Tailfeather had written it.
September 16, 2008 at 6:23 pm
Oh, I forgot to add- he also got fat. Superficial as it may be, that made it a lot easier to…shall we say, move on with life.
September 16, 2008 at 6:43 pm
If I’d had to marry the guy I dated at 17, my husband would be a bipolar, occasionally suicidal, musician. His kisses would be overly sloppy, and his teeth not well brushed. His whining about his shows and refusal to take his meds would be grating on my nerves, and I likely would have left him, but still miss his friends. He’d write me songs, but I’d roll my eyes and wonder how songs could be taken for an apology when something more substantive was in order.
September 16, 2008 at 6:56 pm
Good God, J. Gold!! Unbelievable!
September 16, 2008 at 7:27 pm
i was 17 he was 24. ugh
i honestly cant even think about it. its the only time ive so thoroughly wanted to erase a slice of my life.
(not tht anything bad happened, its just gross to think about)
September 16, 2008 at 7:37 pm
J.Gold: Girl, I love you!
I never slept with my 17 year-old boyfriend, but if I had married him I would be the wife of a Marine with an IQ of about 80. Oh wait, no, I’d be divorced from a Marine with an IQ of about 80. Hopefully without children. He seemed like such a great catch at the time, but hindsight is much clearer.
September 16, 2008 at 7:42 pm
oh dear. My boyfriend from when I was around 17 (we may not have been together by then) is actually a very nice guy but…that’s about it. Still in the same small town, working the same kind of jobs, and has a much-younger girlfriend and a baby girl.
It’s not even an option that we would still be together but if by some twist of fate we were, I would probably be teaching in the high school I went to and coaching the cheerleading team. And being the breadwinner.
September 16, 2008 at 7:46 pm
Um. At 17, I was carrying on correspondence with a pianist from Massachusetts. We had met at music camp in Florida. Anyway, he was into theater, he loved Sibelius and was an uber-Christian.
He enrolled at Bob Jones University (bastion of evangelical conservativism) and became a pastor. So, had I followed in his footsteps, I would have been a pastor’s wife. I can’t imagine how that would have gone.
Even my own parents forbade me from going to Bob Jones because it was so off the deep end. But assuming I had gone there, I would have had a severe existential crisis.
September 16, 2008 at 7:57 pm
At 17, the boy I was dating was a manic-depressive alcoholic with serious catholic issues (aka “I live in a homosocial all-boys-school environment and AM FREAKED OUT BY THIS AND OMG AM I GAY?”) and too much of daddy’s money.
We’d have been divorced by the time I turned 18 (got to be legally an adult to file for divorce, and the catholic sure wouldn’t have done it!) and I’d have had several secret abortions (again, the catholic thing- no birth control, and certainly no aborting one of his precious sperms! — oh, thank god I never slept w him).
He wasn’t a good drummer, anyway.
September 16, 2008 at 8:20 pm
Teens…I would have attended college but have always lived a life based on the expectations of others and concerned that he had not seperated from the corrupt ways of his family. Dead-end street for my personal growth and satisfaction.
Twenties…I would have been tied to a small-time, narrow-minded lawyer absorbed in his small circle of friends and hobbies. Another dead-end.
Thirties…The love of my life! We brought out the best in one another, challenged one another, and made each other dream. He was perfection wrapped in endearing flaws. He was killed in an accident and I will mourn him till the day I die.
September 16, 2008 at 8:33 pm
if’in i had married at 17…….i would probably not know any of you hookers. i would be doing 6-10 for manslaughter, a helluva deal considering i would have WHUPPED HIS ASS before he met his timely death.
i was 17, he was 30. we’d been together 4 years (yes, the math is correct) and planned to marry. had we actually done so i am certain we would have lived with his parents for 10 years because that’s how long it would take his loser ass to save up enough money for a shitty apartment. his credit would be shot, thanks in no small part to the numerous frauds he committed against his own parents or anyone unlucky enough to let him near their personal info. i would be 100lbs overweight with a bad dye job and scar tissue from various UFC style fights with his mother. my lungs would be in horrendous shape from my 2 pack a day Winston habit and my fingernails would resemble amy winehouse’s teeth. i would have many venereal diseases because he cheated on me any time he could, and i would develop an unhealthy relationship with grain alcohol, which would in turn cause intermittent blackouts. these would prove troublesome, especially during my revenge-fuck escapades when i would come to in the back of an extended cab duelie covered only in motor oil and cracked turtle shells. i would dabble in meth, but mainly so i could fuck the guy that sold it. he would be banned from most airports in the country and in the top 20 of the FAA’s Do Not Fly list due to his penchant for stealing prescription drugs and trying to mail himself across the country in a refrigerator box. he would have attempted to knock me up many a time, and after too many abortions there might have been a child. before i killed my husband (in self defense, natch), said child would have learned what a piece of shit his father was after i left him for my lover, Krystal. Krystal who used to fuck my man behind my back.
September 16, 2008 at 9:09 pm
Holy shit, i went from sobbing after reading Greeneye’s to killing myself laughing after reading Kadinsk’s.
Greeneye, I am so, so sorry. Seriously. What a terrible tragedy. Love to you and your kind heart and your courage.
Kadinsk: You have missed a calling of some sort. What it is, I am not entirely sure. But it involves recounting stories of the worst white-trash nightmares a person is able to conceive. I laughed so hard I could barely see it as I read it, so now I am going back to read it again. Greeneye, do the same, maybe it will lighten your heavy heart just a bit.
Love you ladies!
September 16, 2008 at 10:46 pm
I think many of you have enough background info to imagine what it would have been like had I married that sad sack of shit. I won’t elaborate.
I am a cruel woman, but I am not that cruel!
September 16, 2008 at 11:13 pm
Well, I guess I would have had to convert to Mormonism. I look awful with bangs, so I probably would have SHOT MYSELF.
September 17, 2008 at 12:07 am
Awww, the lovely Shane, 3 years my junior when I was 17. Damn he was hot. I may or may not have also made out with his brother once. My first GF and I may or may not have gone on several double date/makeout sessions with the brothers. Had Shane and I married?
After a few years my Sunday school teacher/his mother would have finally forgiven us when our first child was born a couple of hours after Shane’s high school graduation. (His grades had improved SO much after our marriage, because I had taken over doing his homework and writing his essays.) Although we are fodder for gossip at the big Baptist church in town, we continue to attend services and are active members. Each morning we leave our home – a studio apartment near the college – and I drop off the baby at his momma’s and him off at work at Schwanns, and I would drive his gray van with the blue bubble window, aka “The Love Van”, to my morning college classes and then to my part-time job at Sears. As a delivery driver, Shane would spend his days making “special deliveries” to lonely housewives all over town. Shane would use his big tips to buy me flowers so I would suspect he was giving it away all over town. Luckily, these were the days before the widespread AIDS epidemic, so, while I certainly would have come down with something, it would not have been fatal. After a couple of years, and another baby, guilt would have set in and Shane would stop fucking around and again re-commit himself to the church, leading to a period of wedded bliss between us. Sadly, as I reach my late 20’s I realize that, although I have a hot-ass husband, I am clearly seeking the love that dare not speak it’s name, as I spend hours watching the lesbians play softball at the field next to the one where Shane plays baseball. I leave Shane behind, taking the kids and moving in with my mother. Thrilled to have some grandbabies to dote on, my mother gives me plenty of freedom to find a girlfriend.
September 17, 2008 at 7:16 am
I was with the same guy from age 16 to 20, when I left his ass for a woman who had the same name as mine. He claimed he had been ring shopping shortly before break up, so at least the option of marriage was dangerously close.
I would have still left for school, he would have followed. I would have graduated, he still would’ve dropped out. Our days would be filled with fights about his out of control diabetes leading to frequent blackouts and his total lack of desire to do anything with his days or life. I would have continued to close my eyes and imagine better things in bed, and we would have been caught in a few embarrassing situations since I only got off from public quickies.
There would be no babies, I would have left him for another woman with my name at age 20, and he would have had a melt down. All of which sounds strangely familiar.
September 17, 2008 at 8:13 am
Let’s see, first real relationship boyfriend. My parents would have disowned me because he wasn’t African (he appeared Caucasian but was actually half black) and wasn’t Catholic. Because of lack of family support, I would have wound up in a completely codependent relationship. He had a mean streak, a violent temper, and a penchant for drinking, so I figure that it would have been a physically abusive marriage.
He never went to college, so I would have had to financially support his behind. I like nice things and like to pamper myself, so I would have had to work 2 jobs or found a sugar daddy to pay for my hair and nails. Even if he had managed to wrangle a good paying job, he would have been my first & I would have been bored or curious and would have eventually cheated on him anyways.
We would have had beautiful children and for the sake of our children, I would have left him and crawled back to my parents’ doorstep begging for forgiveness. Because of my beautiful children, my parents’ would have taken me in, but would have made it a point to remind me of my failed relationship for the rest of my natural life ( my parents like to blatantly point out their children’s failures and disappointments). My heart would have been broken, and my self esteem would have been shattered, leading me to marry a mentally abusive second husband, who probably would have abused my beautiful children.
In the end, I would have wound up screwed, brokenhearted, or maybe dead.
Now that I look back, thank you Jesus, for keeping X out of my life.
September 17, 2008 at 8:40 am
@tailfeather. Okay, we’ll go with my first love…Jon from Kitchener, Ontario. I seriously wanted to be with him forever and ever–I was 20 and dumb and he was the first guy I slept with–and while we would have made beautiful little dual citizens together, he had anger management issues. I would have wound up married to an rage-prone, alcohol-abusing high school English teacher. And as if that’s not bad enough, he later found Jesus and became a part-time evangelist.
September 17, 2008 at 8:56 am
@Kitchener! I’ve been there.
September 17, 2008 at 11:53 am
Tom and I would have been married after one of the too-numerous-to-count episodes where I tell him I’m leaving, and he says, “All I want to do is marry you.” Sick of his spineless and manipulative behavior, I’d threaten public humiliation if he doesn’t follow through this time in the tiny everybody-knows-everybody-else-from-church town. There would be no wedding, just a justice of the peace, and his mother would always blame me for this. I would struggle to go to community college, where I would see the mother of the baby he fathered at 16 (she was 14 and Catholic) in the hallways and in my classes. This is a young woman on public assistance as an unwed mother receiving free tuition, who would abruptly confront me one day with the fact that her child support check was late in the mail and she’s going to call her lawyer. I tell her if she approaches me again with her baby business, I’ll tell the anatomy teacher that she copied off her lab partner’s test for the C- she ended up with.
I am consistently being told by the hubby that we didn’t have money for me to “waste” on school, leaving out the part about his 12-pack a day habit and his penchant for buying kegs when all of his friends from high school come home to roost. He would sense the distancing of myself as I take on multiple part-time jobs doing menial labor to meet tuition costs. The money would disappear because he couldn’t meet his financial obligations with his drinking and later drugging. Our fights would be numerous, often and create the kind of distancing divide that leads to homicide while the victim is sleeping. When he accuses me of affairs, I remind him of the fact that he fucked my sister and fathered a kid with the town whore. When he forgets my birthday, our anniversary and pleads poverty at Christmas, I remind him of what a fuck up he was in high school and how his lack of ambition was a disease. He reminds me of all the guys he hated in high school (jealous) that were my friends, because that’s all he’s got. He finally gets a windfall from suing his employer for some trumped up issue, which forces us to leave the town and move to a crappy suburb of a nearby city. The only good thing about this is his mother can’t drop in whenever she wants anymore. As I go to school, he becomes more and more of the jealous asshole when he happens to see me having lunch with one of my young, handsome professors (speaks 3 languages, working on his PhD at the university and SURFS!). He will whine about having kids, saying that’s all we need to make “this work” and I’ll remind him he can’t take care of the kid he already has. He’ll tell me to go off the pill, because he heard it makes “you fat.” I’ll tell him to stop with the drinking because it’s making him fat. I’ll decide to get my tubes tied on the sly.
Oh, wait! All of this did happen, except for the actual nuptuals, the tube tying and he got his big fat quarter-million dollar settlement after I dumped his sorry ass. He stalked me for 5 fucking years, people. I’m too scared to think what would have happened if I had married this loser.
September 17, 2008 at 4:15 pm
I never slept with my high school boyfriend, but had I married him well, it would have been scary. I’m going to assume I still became a crazy hippie liberal and he stayed a crazy conservative person. So that would have been fun.
We didn’t date that long, but we actually talked about marriage, sigh. I probably would have never enjoyed sex because even kissing him terrified me, on some level, because I was afraid of being sexual. He would have adored me and worshiped the ground I walked on, while I tried over and over to prove to him that I was not worthy of any of that. I would feel sorry for both of us in this hypothetical marriage. He would make jokes that I wouldn’t find funny and I would probably be hurt by. He would constantly talk about a certain crazy school in Texas that is more like a cult than an institution of higher learning.
My mom, bless her, would stand by, the knowledge of her failed own marriage at 1 weighing her down, and she would gently remind me it didn’t have to be this way. So one day, I would take the cat and run to her. That’s how I see it playing out.
September 17, 2008 at 5:23 pm
@lalaland: He would constantly talk about a certain crazy school in Texas that is more like a cult than an institution of higher learning.
HA! Which one?
Fish heads, fish heads,
Roly-poly fish heads…???
September 17, 2008 at 7:52 pm
@Paisley: It’s in College Station, Texas. Home of the Aggies, Texas A&M. We broke up right around the time he went off to be a cadet there. He had a saying, “From the outside looking in, you can’t understand it. From the inside looking out, you can’t explain it.” Looking back, sounds a bit cultish, I think.
September 17, 2008 at 8:27 pm
@lalaland: HA! So I was right, then? Yes, I had a fellow classmate in high school who went to their “summer camp” the year before our senior year. He showed me his “Fish Heads” Membership Card. Weird. Just fucking weird. He attended one year and then transferred. I used to tease him that he majored in “animal husbandry.” LOL!
August 16, 2010 at 9:03 pm
I used to think it wouldn’t be so bad to marry my teen-sweetheart. He was older, buff and a total doormat. My wish was his command. we dated 4 years and always talk about getting married but I got bored and restless in college.
Then I realized..I’d still be bored.
Worse, I would have moved for his job. In the middle of nowhere. There isn’t a great job in my field for 100s of miles. I would have never gotten my MBA and I’d work some terrible menial “marketing” job for a 1/4 of what I make. We’d live in a sad house (I’ve seen his) since most of our money would go to his f-ed mom.
He’d resent me since I would still not want kids and he would have realized he wanted them.
So a completely boring life with okay sex and I’d spend my nights watching TV and wishing I lived somewhere nicer.
OR. He would have never raped me when I broke up with him. I’d never know about his fucked-up side and we’d live in DC b/c he had an interview with a top spy agency but failed the polygraph. He asked he months later if I considered what he did as rape and I lied and said no, hoping it would clear his conscious, letting him pass the polygraph but they never let him do it again.
In that case, I would have ended up at the same job I eventually did. It was my favorite job of my life, interesting glamorous work. We’d live in a ridiculously huge house in ‘burbs. Which I would secretly hate, but totally get used to.
and I would be completely ignorant that we was a ticking time bomb.
September 22, 2014 at 8:03 pm
free x art
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