True story-- I have a brother who lives in another state. He married young. How young? Young enough to need his parents to sign the legal documents allowing the marriage (I'm trying not to give out TMI here). So he's been married since the Bush administration--Bush Sr., that is, not "Dubya."
At any rate, after over two decades of marital...um, bliss (Or Hell, depending on perspective), my brother and his wife are getting a divorce. And since the wifey pulled a Jerry Springer Show and shacked up with another man, my brother decided to upgrade to a better woman. So guess where he landed? Good ole' POF. The same fucking site that has been a thorn in my side since Bush #2 was in office.
And would you believe by brother found love on the first try? WHAT! THE! FUCK!
He did what took me three years to achieve -- a date. And he did what I could never do, find someone to love. How? He should write a fucking book. Seriously. He needs to buy my lottery tickets. If he visits me as he's threatened to every year since I moved back up north, we're hitting the casinos and the Mega Millions.
I feel almost like Bruce Nolan after Evan Baxter was promoted instead of him.
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