I used to date a bulimic girl. I met her at a bachelor party; the cake came out of her.
Dating is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get. Every person is unique and that can be good or bad. We never know how the person was raised and how that might impact a relationship. What if he or she came from a family of serial killers?
I watch “48 Hours” every week, just in case. I want to learn all of the warning signs of my impending doom, if it’s coming. Those are all true stories about real people who get killed, usually by their significant other. They never see it coming. Well, most of the time.
It seems that in almost every case, the spouse keeps a journal of secret fighting, either verbal or physical and writes, “If anything ever happens to me it will be at the hands of my husband/wife. Normally, there’s another person in the mix, along with a sizable life insurance policy. Note to self: if there is trouble in the relationship and I’m worth more dead than alive, LEAVE!
The killers are not very bright, either. They make up some ridiculous story so when the time line is put together, they couldn’t have been in the vicinity. They always forget about the cellular phone towers and they use their phone to either make a phony call to the home answering machine, the dead person’s cell phone or call the person with whom they’re having the affair.
Amazingly, that happens in the majority of the cases showcased on the program. When confronted, the guilty party always says the cell records are wrong; like a jury is going to believe that. The killer also normally says their marriage was perfect, even though they admit to having an affair.
I don’t have to worry about being a victim. I’m not worth a penny if I croak. My wife is a good person and wouldn’t do something like that anyway, unless I wake her too early on a Saturday morning. Never get between a woman and her sleep.
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