Why do you do all that?

Why do you do all that she asked? I said very nonchalantly. Well every morning I think as I get dressed today is the day that someone is traveling at 55 miles per hour the wrong way and hits me head on. I am thrown 30 ft as the air bags expel and my car new car is instantly smashed like a crushed cane of sprite. I manage to make it as I am air lifted to the nearest hospital.

Now as gruesome as this sounds here is why I do all of this.
As I am rushed into the hospital and they are removing my charred garments from the car fire, oh yea I forgot to mention. My car starts to smoke and begins to go up in flames and I am taken out of the fire just before it explodes by a very good looking fireman. Hey it’s my story. My shoes are off they remove my shirt to begin CPR.

Now not that they care, but it’s the principle. My bra happens to match a very cute pair of panties. My socks have no holes, (even if they have to be removed they unveil a perfect smoothe pair of toes with the cutest sparkly pedicure, and of course they match, and of course my legs just happen to be baby smooth. Is this fireman thinking why didn’t I meet this woman before this accident, as he admires the fact that I have my shit together.

So why do I do all of this anyway because that fireman is still out there.