I’m sure that all of us… no… most of us have the appearance of that “hot fella” we want to marry in the future, what our “future jobs” will be, how our “future homes” will look, and even how much kids we want to have in the future. It’s like that premonition of everything we want.
You want that hot Mexican guy, that hot Indian guy, they hot Spanish guy, or even the hot French, British, Italian, Russian, or Portuguese guys, or whatever other kind of guy you have in mind.
You want a man who could cook; who could give you massages when you’re tired, and who will take you out on dates, even when you married.
You want a guy who knows when not to piss you off and knows when to annoy or distract you because you’re stressing about something big.
You want a guy who will be there every step of the way during your pregnancies; who’ll be there every second to endure your insults, cursing, and squeezing-of-the-hand-to-death when you’re in that hospital bed going through labour and delivering that baby.
But life ain’t fair.
You can either be:
The next successor
Or the next failure
The next queen
Or the next servant
The next wife
Or the next surrogate mother
The next president/prime minister
Or the next vagrant (hobo)
The next doctor
Or the next person with cancer
The next richest person in the world
Or the next person who owes so much to the bank that the bank sold all his possessions and he still owes money to the bank
The next person with a mansion or any kind of ginormous house
Or the next homeless person
It’s all up to you and how you live your life. Maybe you won’t get that “hot guy”… or maybe you would…
For the guys who read this, just replace fella/guy/man with the appropriate word of the opposite gender. Unless you ride the bent road…