Will you marry me when you are seventy and have nothing to lose?

So want am I gonna do now? Just keep jumping from rock to rock for the rest of my life until there aren’t any rocks left? Should I bolt every time I get that feeling in my gut when I meet someone new? I’ve been thinking with my gut since I was 14 years old, and, frankly speaking, I’ve come to the conclusion that my guts have shit for brains

I’m just sick of thinking about it all the time, about, this stuff. Love and settling down and marriage, you know? I want to think about something else. That other girl, or other women, whatever… I mean, I was thinking that they’re just fantasies. You know? And they always seem really great because there are never any problems. And if there are, they’re always cute problems like we bought each other the same Christmas present or she wants to go see a movie that I’ve already seen. And then I come home and you and I have real problems and you don’t even want to see the movie I want to see, period. There’s no lingerie. You have great lingerie, but you also have the cotton underwear that’s been washed a thousand times and it’s hanging on the… thing… and they have it too. I just don’t have to see it because it’s not in the fantasy. Do you understand? I’m tired of the fantasy because it doesn’t really exist. And there are never really any surprises, and it never really… delivers. And I’m tired of it. And I’m tired of everything else for that matter, but I don’t ever seem to get tired of you.
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