I wake up on time every morning thanks only to my modern cell phone and my unbearable hunger caused by my near-starvation diet. I go use the toilet and then put on wonderful Old Spice® deodorant and then spray my shrinking body with Axe® Deodorant Body Spray. I know Axe is the most literal manifestation of the modern douchebag, but I wear it now because I’m thin and skinny guys do stuff like that. I then put on the rest of my clothes and then get into my Toyota Camry. I love my Toyota Camry. It has preset buttons for my radio. The air vents are positioned in just the right places so that not only will my face get cool air, but my hands won’t get sweaty as they drive the car in the summertime.

I love things. I love things so much. I love things so much, that I spend a good amount of my day thinking about how I will enjoy using my things during the rest of my day. Whenever I’m not around my things, I get uncomfortable and nervous. Where is my phone? Why isn’t my cable working? Why am I walking down the wrong side of the street naked?

The thing about marriage that scares me the most is how it will restrict my ability to use my things. I need at least an hour in bed at the end of the day to watch television by myself. I know you like The Daily Show too, but I really need to watch it alone. I feel that once I am married, the only alone time I will have will be in the bathroom and in my car. And though both my Camry and my toilet are fantastic, I will need more than transportation and bladder evacuation to complement my alone time.

I know this is cliché, but when I get married, I think that we should share a giant bed separated by a sound-proof divider, so that we can watch television and read and not be woken up by the other person’s snoring. Maybe I’m just old-fashioned.

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