Fu*k Marry Kill

Almost everyone knows the game…you get three names and you have to choose who you would fuck, who you would marry and who you would kill. For example: Hillary Clinton, Melania Trump, and Laura Bush. Well, Obviously we’re gonna fuck Melania. She probably hasn’t been laid in decades and she’s foreign, which means she’s nuts in bed. Hillary shall be killed and the world will be a better place and Laura Bush we marry solely for the inheritance when the bitch dies. I realize those weren’t the three most fun names available, but I really wanted to kill Hillary so I went with that. Note to the Secret Service: This is satire; I have no interest in coming near Mrs. Clinton as I assume she smells quite rancid and has horrible breath as well. She is safe.

Some people claim the game is better if you use people that you know as opposed to celebrities and politicians, but I would like to suggest that we’re all doing it wrong; while the premise of the game is fun as designed, there’s a lesson to be learned as well. Rather than choosing three different people to focus on, choose one.

That doesn’t make any sense does it?

Actually, it does, if you’ve ever truly been in love, because one of the barometers of love is that the person you care about the most is the one and only person that you want to, at any given time, Fuck, marry and/or kill. Yup…sorry kids, but that’s love…it’s not a fairy tale romance where everything is great all of the time; it’s a never-ending roller coaster of the most amazing times, the absolute worse times, and the most frustrating, rewarding, agonizing, infuriating, confusing, euphoric, and memorable times. That’s love and it isn’t always pretty and it’s rarely easy.

The fuck and marry ones are easy to understand if you’re envisioning the person you love the most; but lots of people will push back on the kill category saying stupid things “I’d never want to kill my man!” Of course not…not in practice or literal terms, but if we’re being truly honest there are times where, in the moment, you fantasize about it because you care that much. I know it sounds ludicrous but that’s love! It’s totally ludicrous and drives us all to say, do, and think things we wouldn’t otherwise. If you’re in a relationship with someone you’ve never wanted to kill then you aren’t truly in love with them…period.

You have to remember that hate is not the opposite of love, indifference is. When you reach a point that you genuinely couldn’t care less what happens to your significant other, they have become insignificant and you are not in love with them any longer. When you can envision with glee your hands wrapped around their throat, you’re still in love, because you still care, mightily. Note to local law enforcement: My wife Christina is safe and sound and while there are absolutely times I want to wring her neck in a non-sexual way I have not, as of this writing, done so. Please stand down.

So take a moment and reflect; if you’re in love, picture that person and ask yourself this: In our most heated and frustrating moments do I want to kill them? If your answer is no, then you aren’t in love. You probably love them, but you aren’t in love with them, because they haven’t taken you to the depths of your soul and found your deepest, darkest places. This exercise isn’t about your ability to actually murder, it’s about the level to which you truly have given yourself to someone and allowed them into who you are…and that’s why you want to kill them. Once you hand yourself over to another person and become truly vulnerable, they have a weapon they use against you at anytime, and when they piss you off, you feel as though they’re doing that, even though that probably isn’t their intention at all. Regardless, in that moment, when you are so hurt and so angry, there’s a part of you that imagines, just for an instant, pulling that trigger, or driving that car, or being the one that shoves them into the volcano…it’s fleeting…but it’s a real thought. That’s love.

Not all the time, mind you…this should be a once, maybe twice per year instance. Quarterly if things are rocky and monthly if you’re married to a Samoan, cop, alcoholic, Mel Gibson, Chris Brown, or a black woman.

The FMK game is stupid because the first two are easy, even when you’re given wretchedly hideous humans to choose from. You fuck the hottest or craziest one and marry the one that you can tolerate the longest, but hey, you’re also still fucking them. It’s the kill that matters most. For example: Rosie O Donnell, Roseanne Barr and Lizzo.

I’m killing Rosie O’ Donnell in an instant because I can’t stand that bitch. Roseanne I’m going to have to fuck and then run myself through a touchless car wash five or six times and then see a hypnotist to make me forget everything. Lizzo we marry because she’ll be on the road a lot, black don’t crack, and again…the inheritance. Note to the NYPD; I understand that Ms. O’Donnell resides in a penthouse in New York City…she is safe as this is satire and I have no interest in ever coming near her, let alone touching her. Please go back to chasing pizza rat.

You can always go the other way and focus on three amazing, to you, choices. For me, we’ll go with Gabrielle Union, Rihanna, and Halle Berry. I’m marrying Rihanna for the inheritance as previously established (plus the sex is part of the deal so I win). While the remaining choices are difficult, I’m going to have to fuck Halle Berry because I’m pretty sure she’s insane in bed, which sadly means that my ultimate celebrity crush, Gabrielle Union, must be killed. Note to Hidden Hills, California police: I had to Google the fact that Gabrielle lives in your fine community and I have no idea where exactly. She is in no danger and I would never think of hurting her. This is satire. That is all.

And just like that, we’re off track again. Rather than throwing out three random names, think of the people in your life that you think you love…which of them do you occasionally want to kill? Those are the people you love the most. The rest are just there.

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