I never decide to jump off a cliff until I'm absolutely ready. I mean, considering all the things that could go wrong. I could hit something on the way down or I could land awkwardly or I might just freak out enough mid-fall to snap my own neck. Okay, seriously now, I am quite experienced at jumping off of cliffs, so when I felt a little awkward after my first jump it troubled me. Yet somehow it never crossed my simple mind to tell my fiancee not to jump--even though this would be her first cliff ever. A 35 foot cliff. I just smiled and instructed her, "Hey, make sure you enter the water stiff as a board and straight as a pencil!" Would you ever ride a bull if your first bull-riding experience and advice was while you were sitting on top of the beast? Well, you would if you were engaged to an idiotic bull rider.

So she jumped. The fearless beauty jumped, most likely against her will and most definitely against her best judgment. Now if someone tells you that it isn't right to wish you could do things differently given the chance, they've never seen the love of their life take your suicidal advice and jump off a cliff and hit the water with their feet out in front of them. If they have seen that and still say that they wouldn't change a thing in their life, then they're going to have an amazingly lopsided marriage. Good luck pal.

So by the time we were home and my fiancee had 95% of her body covered in bruises (or I guess one HUGE bruise) and was 95% incapacitated, I felt the kind of guilt that gnaws at your will to live. I replayed the event in my mind yet this time the cliff seemed 100 feet tall and I had cuffed my bride-to-be and pushed her off the cliff. How could I have been so stupid? Could I tell her I had an abnormally high amount of testosterone? You can blame anything on hormones. Or maybe I could tell her I'm on drugs...yeah, PCP or LSD--one of those crazy hallucinogen.

It's a wonder that I'm married. And it's a miracle that my wife is the very girl that I blindfolded and pushed off a 200 foot cliff.