The Vow

Brad aged 31 and Caroline aged 27, are at their wedding. They prepared their own wedding “vows”. Here’s Brad’s.

Caroline….here we are standing in front of our friends and families, whom we’ve just scammed for bridal registry gifts all over town. We’ve collected a lot of stash and swag, but given the skeletons in my closet, I suspect we’ll have some storage problems when we move into that designer apartment your Dad gave us.

I don’t really want to marry you, because I think cock is more interesting particularly when attached to a hot guy. Thing is, having you as my wife deletes the awkward questions, gives me a guaranteed date to corporate functions, allows me to wear a wedding band and fit in with the other guys in the office and best of all, to put a framed picture of you on my desk – instead of the one with Miss Piggy in pearls.

You’d better not look at my mobile or my laptop. I’ve put user codes on them. Both have gay porn downloads, chat room generated explicit e-mails of men I wanted to meet and some of whom I did. There are tons of numbers from fone sex contacts, details of my tricks in the gay saunas, complete online gay guides to the cities I visited on my business trips, plus all my currently valid ads on Craigslist that I amend from time to time.

I’ve also uploaded videos of me in your underwear, jacking with a Fleshlight, doing bukkake, fuckin’ a watermelon and trying out dildos.

I’m out of control financially. I drink after work with the guys then drift into a gay bar. On weekends, I won’t be around. I’ll be at the 24 hour gay saunas getting gangbanged on meth amphetamine, Viagra and Trance Music. If you wanna know where the mood swings came from, now you know.

I’ve also been blackmailed and ripped of by male hustlers a couple of times and I’m paying them every month. The guys at the office are getting suspicious and they talk behind my back – especially when I step out about 4pm every couple of days, hit the sauna and crawl back to the office about 6pm and pretend that I was with a client. Heck, even my secretary knows I’m a liar.

I’m never gonna explain those scrawled phone numbers on scraps of paper that end up in my shirt pocket and then in the washing machine. And there will be phone calls that I get that I just don’t want you to hear. I’ll be stepping out onto the balcony a lot.

I’m not gonna be faithful to you. I never was. If you wanna call me bisexual that’s cool, I’ll take it. But I’m the only one who knows the whole truth. Even in the dead of night when I’m holding you in my arms, it’s not you I inhale – it’s the scent of that hot dude I sucked in the public toilet after office hours mixed with unflushed shit and disinfectant.

I really dunno what kind of husband or father I’m gonna be. You’ll get the 2.5 kids coz I don’t have a problem fucking you. But stuff like Little League, piano lessons, growing pains and upbringing is your problem coz I’ll be stoned, out cruising, getting fucked, or a combination of all three.

Chances are we’ll end up divorced. I suggest you keep your job indefinitely. You’ll see through me and all of this gay shit at some point. Right now you’re only marrying me to stop the other 2 bitches from snaring me. I’m hot to look at now, but see me in 7 years and you’ll really be wondering what  you married and why.  The only thing I ask is that if my lifestyle kills me, just show up with the kids at my bedside. The guys I fucked around and partied with were all anonymous and most had false names.

So yeah……..I’ll take you to be my lawfully wedded wife……whatever the hell that means.

Originally published 24 March 2010
Republished 27 January 2014 | 27 March 2017

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