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Me and Me and Me and Him

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"I'll have a bottle of your best Champagne, please! I'm getting married!"

"Excuse me, kid. I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Do what?"

"Buy that Champagne. You don't have much to celebrate. In fact, you're in for a world of hurt."

"Look, mister. I don't know who you are, but I was here first."

"Look closely, dummy. It's me. Actually, it's you. From 2008."

"Get outta here. You're supposed to be ten years older than I am? You look 60."

"Even so. Do you believe me? Or should I reel off a few thousand terribly embarrassing things about our childhood that only we would know?"

"OK, fine. In the interest of time, let's say you've convinced me."

"Good."

"Jesus. We've aged terribly."

"Well, we've been through a lot."

"Like what?"

"Like, for example, that girlfriend of yours is going to divorce you."

"Bullshit."

"It's the truth. Signed the papers this morning."

"No way. What happened?"

"Nothing, really. And everything. One day, that woman is going to ask you for a divorce. And after you think it through, you're going to give it to her, because you're going to know you don't love her enough. You never loved her enough. You don't even love her enough now."

"Yes I do."

"You think you do. But you have no idea what you're in for. Especially after the kids arrive."

"I'm gonna be divorced with kids?"

"Afraid so. And you'll see her every day, as a constant reminder of how you permanently fucked
your life up."

"Let me get this straight. I'm gonna go up to my apartment and celebrate our engagement, and
we're gonna get married, have a kid--"

"Two. Boys."

"--two boys, and then we're gonna split up?"

"Yup. It's going to be hell."

"Awesome. And just what exactly am I supposed to do with this?"

"Break it off. Tell her you made a mistake. Dump her. Kick her ass out, and hope she moves out of town and out of your life forever."

"Hang on. You don't have to do that."

"Holy shit. You're not ..."

"Yep. I'm both of you, in 2010."

"Jesus. I thought you were Eisenhower."

"Thanks a lot. I keep forgetting what a douche you are."

"Did you call me a douche? Who says douche?"

"We do, unfortunately. It's sort of the hot new thing to call someone on TV."

"Embarrassing."

"I know. But more important than that, it looks like I got here just in time."

"In time for what?"

"In time to convince the old me not to convince the older me not to get married."

"Um. What?"

"Go ahead and get married. Don't worry about consequence."

"Why?"

"Because it gets better."

"It has to get better. It sure as hell couldn't have been any worse."

"You think that now. But as awful as it was, you're going to learn that it could have been really awful."

"How will I learn that?

"You'll start a blog with her."

"You are out. Of. Your. Mind. Seriously. Such a comfort to know I'm destined to go stark freaking insane. How is that even possible?"

"Because you're going to work on yourself. You're going to know yourself better. You're going to feel a lot of anger and sorrow and guilt, but you're going to forgive yourself."

"That doesn't sound like me."

"No, it doesn't. But it is you. You get better. And it gets better. You know where I was this morning? With her and the kids. We had brunch. It was great."

"Can I go home now?"

"Pipe down. I'm not talking to you right now, OK? I'm talking to him."

"What's a blog?"

"Never mind. Listen. There's someone I'd like you to meet."

"Hi."

"Let me guess. This is the eight-year-old version of us?"

"Close. This is your son. Our son."

"Wow. He's our Mini-Me."

"Except maybe not so mini. Jesus, you've grown about a foot since you were six. And I like the glasses."

"I hate 'em. I feel like a dork."

"Just like I did."

"Just like we all did."

"Dad, can I go read? I'm almost done with my book."

"Wow. Nice kid."

"Yup. He's amazing. Snarky as hell. Likes to write comics."

"Just like I did."

"Just like we all did. And if our marriage never happens, he never happens."

"So what? Who's to say I couldn't have a great kid with a better wife?"

"Trust me. You should take the bird in the hand on this one. He's the best. And so is his brother, for completely different reasons."

"It's true."

"Listen. I know what you're thinking. After a life decision blows up in your face, it's easy to get obsessed with getting a do-over. But they're overrated. If everyone had a do-over, nothing would ever get done."

"So now what am I supposed to do? Go commit to a marriage that I know is doomed?"

"Don't worry about it. In a few seconds we'll vaporize, and you'll forget you ever saw us. And
everything will eventually work out OK. Oh, and one other thing..."

"What's that?"

"In six years, buy Google."

"What? What's a Google?"

POOF.