So we were watching the Property Brothers again (they’re 6’5 — love me some tall men) and I asked Jenny which one she’d pick. She said she couldn’t because they were both identical with the same sense of humor, the same everything. I said if I couldn’t have both at once I’d take Jonathan, the contractor, rather than Drew in his suits. But that’s me.
Anyway, she mentioned a gamed called Marry, Kill, Fuck. (Sorry if that word bothers you, but it is me, you know). Anyway, you pick three men and decide who you’d marry, kill etc. I couldn’t quite understand the concept so she said “Say, Bugs Bunny, Scrooge McDuck and Daffy Duck.” Ignoring the fact that she combined Looney Tunes with Disney, my first thought was that was simple. I wanted to fuck Bugs, and I’d kill Scrooge McDuck, and marrying Daffy would be entertaining.
Jenny said she’s marry Bugs and screw Daffy.
And then I started thinking about it. Some women would marry Scrooge for the money. And sex with Daffy would be all over the place.
So, final answer, I’d marry Scrooge McDuck for all the money, kill Daffy so he didn’t drive me crazy, and fuck Bugs (as long as the deal went that I keep having Bugs on the side, because life with Scrooge McDuck would be very deadly without Bugs to keep me happy).
Ah, the things we talk about as we crochet and quilt and watch HGTV. I guess the trick is go for a group, not a random selection. But you know, it’s hard to pick a group where you’d actually want to kill someone. Maybe Stab. Marry, Stab, Screw. That’s good.
So, another group of three. Vampire Diaries. Marry Damon, Stab (hey, even kill)Stefan, Screw Damon. Oh, that’s cheating. Marry Klaus, kill Stefan, fuck Damon as long as I could always have him.
You pick your three.
Another game is to pick your one cheat (there’s a name for the game but I forget). The one fantasy infidelity you and your husband agree on, like for him it’s Charlize Theron and for you it’s Johnny Depp.
I can’t play that one. Because it’s contingent on the Fantasy Fuck desperately wanting me (can’t imagine taking my clothes off and getting in bed with anyone who’s not so into me that everything about me is glorious). And I cannot imagine anyone feeling that way, and I have lots of imagination, let me tell you.
Which gets around not just to body issues, but to the whole thing of “pretty.” Which is still such a powerful issue for me, which, at 64, I ought to be over.
But Lena Horne was talking about how old women are still “juicy” at 72, and man, she looked it.
I’m still juicy at 64. But I simply can’t imagine Alan Rickman or any of the luscious men I fantasize over (with Richie’s kind acceptance) ever wanting me, even with the largest leap of faith.
Which is kind of a shame.
Anyway, back to the fun part. Pick a group of three. Who would you Marry, Kill, Fuck? Or Marry, Stab, Screw?