My name is Dean Martin. Not ‘the’ Dean Martin. Just a random guy who has the name but not the voice.
I don’t want anything. And I think that’s my trick to happiness.
I trained myself to believe and live by that maxim when I was just out of college and landed a good job that was promising a long and successful career. And my girlfriend Peggy Sue and I were planning to join each other in marriage that was also promising to be long and successful just like the one my parents had. It sounded like a good life to me and I was ready. I was young but mature enough to be ready. The night before our wedding, my best friend Harry threw me a moderately wild bachelor party which I ditched around midnight to go see my future bride. I was tipsy and was hoping to get a little action from her. When I got to her place, she was fucking her neighbor Frank who got so scared when he saw me that he stood straight in front of me, naked, quiet and petrified, for about ten seconds before he crashed to the wooden floor and died of a heart attack. To this day, all I remember about him is how he stood naked before me and even though I looked, I couldn’t see the tiniest bit of his male instrument – that’s how fat Frank was. That’s to say to people that no matter what your shape or size, there is somebody who will like it. I never got married to Peggy Sue. We broke up that night and she quickly moved on with some guy called Buddy. And I wasn’t mature as I thought I was – I was only foolish. And for a long time I partially blamed myself for Frank’s demise. If only I had not walked in on them. If Peggy Sue had not been my fiancee. He wouldn’t get scared. And the irony is – I am not some big scary guy. So maybe Frank was a decent chap who died of shame when I appeared. Or maybe he was too big of a coward. But then brave enough to make a naked move on my girl. People puzzle me. And by ‘male instrument’ I meant dick.