Till Die Do We Part…

It used to be that if I didn’t how to decide I’d toss a coin, or he’d toss a coin. He said it was the only sure way to know, because even if you got the less favourable outcome, you would then realise what you really wanted and could chose that instead. It seemed like a really cool way to be decisive, a no nonsense way to cut the crap.

I thought it was our little trick for when we needed an easy solution, you know, like pizza or Chinese? One more pint or home early? Cinema or Dvd? Simple stuff. I never gave it any further thought. Little did I know the idea had taken hold of him in a big way. He was always obsessed by games, a “dungeon master” in his geekish youth, he was now a computer games designer in geekish adulthood. He liked rules and numbers. I guess some people are just wired that way. I’m embarrassed to say I didn’t notice his erratic behaviour in the beginning. The fact that sometimes he’s seemingly change his mind on a whim, or defend opinions contrary to his own, argue for something against his own fundamental beliefs. I put it down to spontaneity, and open mindedness, but over time it began to seem a bit more schizophrenic.

He carried a coin everywhere with him, always flicking and catching. I thought it gave him something to do with his hands when he was giving up smoking. I only realised in retrospect it was used to influence every decision we/he made. You know I never even saw the dice? (“The dice are your friend, always keep them with you”). I only know of them because I found his journal, “The book of Die” next to his home pc. Maybe it seems like prying, but I thought it was research for the game he was working on. Each page had a topic, like “transport”, and options listed one to six; Throw 1 take the train to work, 2 Cycle, 3 Bus, etc. It seemed harmless till I found the page entitled “Life Choices”, I knew then this was no joke. Throw 1 for Holiday, 2 Resign, 3 Propose, 4 Affair with co-worker, 5 End long term relationship, and 6 Relocate.

It turns out options 5 & 6 were more or less the same. He never came home from work that day. The removal men arrived around 5pm and packed up all his stuff and took it to storage. I was given no forwarding address, and no explanation. I never actually saw him again. Now, it’s possible you think I’m crazy, and I might even have gone out of my mind but I know what I read. Just think, I’d a 1 in 6 chance of marrying that guy. I guess I got a lucky escape instead.

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