Ramblings of a delusional dumbass

Ha ha ha ha ha! Gotcha! Confession time- the obvious click-baity title was to increase page views. This post has nothing to do with dating married women. Well it does, but it's not what you think. You can leave now if you want to. I have no use for you anymore, peasant. Marriage, like becoming a Chartered Accountant is hard. I don't know anything about either of them, but that is what people say, so i'm gonna assume it is so. An ideal marriage is one where both parties involved are absolutely compatible. They remember all the important dates, they give each other just enough space, he puts the toilet seat down and she makes the sandwich. I just described the ideal marriage in a sentence. I can only imagine how fucking boring being in one would be. Aiming for ideality is good. Actually achieving it is both impossible and improbable. What most people don't realize is that you need to wear different hats, ties, suits and skirts in a marriage. Your wedding is essen

            “Jonny! JONNY!” bellowed Jonathan Smith Sr., banging on the apartment door.             “Goddamnit Jonny, open the fucking door!” he banged on the door again, the green flakes on the faded door reverberating. “I know you’re in there.”             Jonathan heard his son scuffling inside, hastily making way towards the door. He could hear his son, Jonathan “Jonny” Smith Jr. clumsily fiddling with the latches on the other side of the door, cursing under his breath every time he fumbled. Jonathan flung the door open, almost knocking over Jonny, and barged right in.             “What took you so long?” Jonathan said, and went straight to the only bedroom in the apartment, not waiting for an answer.             “I was in the bathroom Pop.” Jonny said, lying down on the tattered old pink couch, taking a swig at his beer.             “In the bathroom” Jonathan sniggered from the other room. “What’s it this time Jonny? Heroin? Speed? Hell, you’d snort talcum powder if