Killer bikes

Let's say you were a girl who had a boyfriend who insisted on riding a motorbike. You beg him not to because it's so dangerous. He shrugs off the risks, saying he'll be safe. Of course you aren't convinced, because you've heard all the stories. So he says, look, if I ever get into an accident you can break up with me, I won't hold it against you -- in fact, it will be your right. And you realise there's no dissuading him from the killer two-wheeled machine, and so you say, ok, whatever.

Every once in a while you ask him to stop riding, and he says no.

And then he actually gets into an accident, a very bad one. The doctors say he's going to be paralysed from the neck down. You're young. You have your whole life ahead of you. You know no matter how much you love this guy you do not, realistically, do not, want to spend your life cleaning his shit and bedsores. This man who refused to listen to you when you were rattling off statistics, telling him not to ride in the rain, nagging him when he rode too fast, suggesting he buy a better helmet.

You're sad, of course you're devastated. You also feel betrayed. You blame him for it, even though you know technically it's not his fault (it's the slippery road, the swerving truck, the impaired visibility). But you know, you can't help feeling like he never cared about what you thought, your life, when he chose the bike over your fears.

And so you visit him in hospital and say, I'm sorry, it's over. You walk away feeling guilty as hell, but you know there was no way the relationship could have survived anyway. Better not to give him false hopes right?

But why waste time thinking about this? You have bigger problems now. From now on, everyone thinks you're a cold, heartless bitch.