We, the Fortunate Ones

Kim and Og have posted about the utterly dreadful concept of having to go back into the dating scene.

Once again, older and wiser men have said it much more eloquently than I could.

Kim:

The Mrs. thinks that I protect her in all things because I’m some kind of chivalric Knight In Shining Armor. I’m not. I’m actually a querulous, timorous coward who can’t face the prospect of life without her.

Compared to getting back into the dating scene, taking a bullet for her would be a doddle.

And Og:

Lets face it: If I got what I deserved, I’d be married to a crack whore with no teeth and bad odors emanating from every orifice, who takes potshots at me every once in a while with my own guns, and regularly stabs me in my sleep.

Instead I managed, like Kim, to attract a woman who is an absolute doll; a woman who still gives me serious wood to see her naked, a good mother and wife, a joy to go to sleep next to, and wake up next to.

I wish I was as good at getting the thoughts out of my head and into the written word as these two guys.