Monday, December 8, 2008
at 9:10 AM Posted by futuremrsrickankiel
There are really only three categories into which members of the opposite gender fall: people you'd like to fuck, people you'd like to marry, and people you'd like to kill. Don't give me that "oh but we're friends, futuremrs, we cuddle and tell secrets and play Scrabble and like totally have this trusting non-hormonal relationship together despite having complementary genitalia." Yeah, yeah. Try killing a bottle of Knob Creek together alone one snowy night and see what happens. There are 3 possible outcomes:
1. You have sloppy drunk sex, which makes things horribly awkward from then on. This means they were in the Fuck category all along.
2. You have sloppy drunk sex that leads to a sort of "my god, why in the name of all that's holy have we been playing Scrabble this whole time when we could have been fucking each other's brains out?" revelation. Yep, then they were in the Marry category.
3. He tries to hook up with you and you drunkenly rebuff him. (Can also be gender-reversed, I suppose, but that's rare.) This means that, in the massive all-in game of Fuck Marry Kill that is life, this poor sap is a Kill. It doesn't mean you hate him. It simply means that the prospects of either a passionate night of steamy sex OR a lifetime of companionship with this person are, at bottom, repulsive to you. And that's it. You're someone's Kill, too. We all are.
(Forgive the extreme hetero-normativity of this post, by the way. Any and all categories and situations can and do apply to man-man and lady-lady pairings, natch, but I prefer to speak from direct experience.)
These categories have been crystallized for the majority of us since middle school, along with the oh-so-helpful M.A.S.H. metric that had many of us living in shacks with various barely-pubescent musicians and movie stars for most of 7th grade. As we assess a weekend chock-full of Boston-area sports team victories, I propose to apply the time-honored Fuck Marry Kill designations to our own Celtics, Bruins, and Patriots.
Fuck: The Bruins. The hot-to-trot young Bruins have something to prove, which means they'll throw it all on the line to give you what you need and send you home satisfied. They're fierce and physical, but can finesse the puck when they need to; they'd slap you around, but make you feel like a real woman afterward. Bonus points if Jack Edwards yells, "SENDS ONE DOWN THE RIVER!" at any point during coitus.
Marry: The Celtics. Listen to your mamas, ladies: marry the man who's got his shit together. The Celtics are the reigning world champions. They've got the bling and are getting down to business this year just as efficiently as before. (Win streak now at 12, by the way. WOO!) The Celtics will take care of you. The Celtics will love you. The Celtics will buy you that beach house in North Truro (which you will then sneak off to on the weekends in order to have freaky monkey sex with the Bruins).
Kill: The Patriots. For almost losing to the motherfucking Seahawks. GOD.
Any more FMKs you'd like to throw on the table for one or all of us to answer? Dump 'em in the comments! And stick around. More Hysteria is on the way!