Rewind to two months ago. Itâ€™s late June and MR is spamming Zillionaire daily with a bevy of shameless self-promotion pieces about his upcoming â€œmarriage.â€ (I use quotes because I have heard from a number of sources that their union is illegitimate. Matt had previously married his Xbox and refused to have it annulled. He is technically a polytechnogamist.) Well, it turns out Matt wasnâ€™t the only one falling in love. I have an announcement to make everyone, and Iâ€™m doing it right here on Zillionaire.
I am engaged.
I met my fiance on the day before Mattâ€™s wedding actually, in a little town called Olga on the muddy sand beaches of Orcas Island. In fact, Matt introduced us. You know those awkward first conversations with someone you donâ€™t know, well we didnâ€™t have any of that. We just sat and looked at each other. Websterâ€™s would call it love at first sight, but what is that? Does that describe the way someone can look at you and your foot starts tapping and your throat turns hairy? Does it do justice to the way that feeling “known” by someone can turn you into the child youâ€™ve been bottling up for so long? I donâ€™t think so. So yeah it was love at first sight, but that was the just that first split-second when we first laid eyes on each other. The rest of the time felt like love for an eternity.
So let me introduce you all to my new love, the Space Pen.
A beloved gift from MR for corralling long-lust buds at his bachelor party (Gabe Smith was a tough one to round up. Apparently, he is the Pecos Bill of Ellensburg now.), the Space Pen is unlike any other gift Iâ€™ve ever received. None of the other presents that have graced my Christmas mornings or bad-ass birthday bashes have ever been documented to write in zero-gravity. None of them. Not even the Underwater Typewriter I got that one year my family celebrated Hanukah. (Stupid thing was only â€œwaterproofâ€ though, meaning it could function at a maximum depth of 10 feet. Useless to me, at that point.)
Its uniqueness is only matched by its exquisite craftsmanship. It is a marvel to hold in the hand. I can only speculate what holding a 200 carat diamond feels like. I have never wrapped my fingers around a solid gold bar. Even so, I can guarantee the Space Pen is of that caliber. I would say it reminds me of handling a 200 carat diamond encased in a solid gold bar, but thatâ€™s just off the top of my head.
Seriously, this is the kind of material possession that makes me want to have babies; little ones that will someday grow up and I can pass on the treasures that Iâ€™ve collected over my lifetime. Dirty little rug-rats that, god willing, I can call my â€œinheritorsâ€ someday. Thatâ€™s this manâ€™s dying wish. (My nightly prayer always starts, â€œGod, please donâ€™t make me immortal”)
Picture it. My daughter sitting on my knee, looking up lovingly at her disgusting half-man, half-robot, 300-year-old cyber father while I tell her the story of the Space Pen. (Iâ€™m not planning on having kids soon.)
Me (Cyberdad): â€œThis is called a Space Pen because it can write in Space.â€
Daughter: â€œCool. Did you use it Space?â€
Me (Cyberdad): â€œActually, no. I never went to Space.â€
Daughter: â€œSo it was just as functional as a regular pen?â€
Me (Cyberdad): â€œAlright smartypants, time for bed. Go to your sleep chamber.â€
All I can say is run, donâ€™t moonwalk, to the galaxy nearest you and pick up a Space Pen. The heavens are now our infinite year-book to scribble on.