Thank you, 54th Street or I have no idea what I am writing

Note to readers: I have no idea what this post is about. I just wrote the first thing that came to my mind. Not sure how well it flows or even if there is an actual post attached. No worries. Enjoy it. I am sure it is funny. Most of my stuff is. It’s funny to me at least and if I do say so myself, I am a funny guy.

I am one of those people who just rather be alone than get married, make babies, and pollute this planet with annoying creatures that cry and beg for attention. I’ve dated. I’ve done that. I just like knowing that I can walk in my apartment and lounge around in my birthday suit without upsetting someone. That really doesn’t fall into the marriage category. I am sure if I was to be married, my wife would be ecstatic to see my in nothing but a pair of argyle socks and maybe a snapback. A roommate on the other hand, wouldn’t be for that. I’ve had roommates and we never measured our junk and never had penis sword fights. We ignored each other. We were like a married couple who when we did converse and see each other, it was to drink, smoke, and listen to some Jimmy Buffet. Life is much simpler when you’re alone. Life is too complicated when you’re married. Too many rules. Believe me. I have rules already when (if it ever happens) I get married. It won’t happen. I am fine with that. It’s my life, not yours. I just don’t need you to rub my solidarity in my face with snarky remarks and obvious attempts to show me once more that, I will be forever alone.

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