So, today I'm getting married.
Yeah.
So, what about it?
I'm not entirely sure. I don't get to have sex with other women besides Amanda, like, it's illegal now instead of just morally ambiguous.
I know it's weird that the first thing to come out of my mouth is something I can't do any more. Not that I was any kind of Cassenova to begin with.
It's really, and I hate to put it this way, a buisiness kind of proposition. I love her, and I'm not going to deny it, but the only reason to get married now instead of when I have a job and become financially stable is a small girl. We've planned this, roughly, for four years. The marriage, not the baby.
I'm 23 years old, and already I'm filled with regret. Words I should have spoken. Actions I should have taken. Many many desserts I shouldn't have eaten. Psychotropics I should have known and loved.
I can't get a job because I'm bad at The Job Interview. Feeling sorry for myself: my own grand tradition.
I've become a conservative in act, but not in thought.
Such is life. I just hope I don't mess up the Honeymoon.