You know you have to do it; you got that stupid fucking thing for your birthday he can't take back, and you can't return it either because it's been too long. It's going to come up. The prick is just sitting there with his hands behind his head; Christmas, maybe a drunk New Year's, and a one birthday a year. You know you don't want to do it, he knows you don't want to do it, but is he going to say anything about it? Fuck no. You're the one who has to take all the responsibility for the relationship. He doesn't have to do shit but work a 12 hour week, then come home and take care of that goddamned dog you didn't wanna adopt from the pound either. He looks at you, you look at him, he smiles that shit eating grin and turns up the game, who the fuck knows who's playing. You walk over shaking your head, he doesn't care, and start to pay the marriage rent. Happy Birthday, only Christmas and New Year's to go...maybe death will come first.
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