On My Fear of Saying F.M.L. & My Superstitious Side

A short humorous piece

F.M.L. “Fuck my life.”

I’m afraid of using this phrase.

If the phrase were “Fuck, my life,” as in “Aww fuck, my life sucks!” then I would use it. But that’s not how it’s used. It’s used as an imperative. “Hey, you, fuck my life.”

I’m not a particularly religious man; I do not believe in a Judeo-Christian conception of God or in a any sort of anthropomorphized deity for that matter (I am agnostic). Yet I fear saying things like FML because I imagine “God” hearing me say that, and responding to me, “Hey, you know what, Mauro? I think I might take you up on that. Sure, I’ll fuck your life… right now.”

And the next day, I look in the mirror and notice my hairline is receding, and for the next few weeks, I start balding rapidly. And consequently my girlfriend (Correction: fiancée) starts to find me less attractive, slowly loses interest in me, and falls out of love with me.

OR the next day, while I’m at my favorite gym, I suddenly get immensely and violently painful abdominal cramps, and I shit my pants then and there for everyone to see. So I’ll never be able to return that gym again. And later, at home, after showering, I go to YouTube out of a need for escapism and find that me shitting my pants is the newest viral video laughingstock.

OR I imagine something much, much worse happening, something that I wouldn’t even want to think about.

So, to avoid these scenarios and their endless possibilities for pain, humiliation, and misery, I’ll do my best to avoid saying “fuck my life” whenever something bad happens.

So the next time I lose my keys, or roll my ankle playing basketball, or run out of milk when I crave cereal, I will instead say “Oh, goddamn it.”