To keep my word, or to not keep my word, that is the fucking problem
so, in high school, i dated this really cute girl for a while. she was blonde, petite, played tennis, had a killer rack and an even more devastating ass. this makes me sound like a pig. i know.
well, fuck. i'm a dude, what else do you expect? i don't pull punches. this is how it fucking is. why run away from it?
anyway, so this girl and i... one day we're in the park making out and stuff and we see this great big fat couple. i mean huge -- gigantically and morbidly obese... like french fries and krispy kremes were falling out of their extra folds of skin, that's how big they were.
and being the immature kids we were, we snickered. we were rude. we were assholes.
she turns to me and says, "if i ever look like that, please, just kill me."
"okay." i replied laughing.
"no. seriously. if i ever look like that, you have to kill me. i couldn't take it. promise?"
"uh...sure. i promise."
okay, now fast-forward 15 years and realize we'd lost touch for about 12 of those years. i wake up one day to find a facebook friend request from some jabba the hutt impostor with her name.
i clicked through her pictures and lo and behold: that once petite and gorgeous head-turner has turned into a perfect candidate for gastric bybass surgery.
so... does this mean i have to kill her now?