On turning 26 you realise that all the men you meet are all used up, overweight and fatigued after a 26 year banquet of cheap meat. If they were to take a much needed shit, out would come their vows and kids and years of investment in subpar women who’ve drained their digestive systems and turned them into an obese generation that can do nothing better than look at caviar without the stomach to consume it.

And all I can do at 26 is keep these eggs in good condition until some ravenous adolescent is ready to begin his banquet and I can drain his digestive system in the hope that some future 26 year old will find him overweight and fatigued years later and be utterly disappointed, just like I am today, at 26.