Not that I would disparage the grand and hallowed tradition of marriage, mind you. Wouldn’t dare. I mean, I’m in a polyandrous triad, so what would I know, right? I’m sure marriage, as an idea, is perfectly delightful. Cute, even. Adorable. Quaint.

Y’know, like a dingy old wooden chair that looks like crap, but you keep it around because it has “character.” I mean yeah, I’d just as soon throw that chair into a fireplace as look at it, but I’m certain it’s the sort of chair that’s just perfect for someone’s home. Someone’s ugly, ugly, trendy home. That I’m sure they’re very happy with.

Marriage is swell.