Daniel Sloss - Everyone You Hate Is Going to Die: And Other Comforting Thoughts on Family, Friends, Sex, Love, and More Things That Ruin Your Life

Im thirty years old, and I have signed five separate divorce papers.

None of them were mine. Dont worry. I was merely autographing the papers of people whose divorces Ive caused. They lined up, in the rain, to meet me and thank me for causing their breakup and then asked me to sign the papers as a memento of their liveswhich they said I had saved. Like a white Jesus.

If that opening doesnt get you to buy this book, then honestly, just put it down and fuck off. Its not for you. I dont even want you to read it. Have a wonderful life.

Still here? Brilliant. Thanks for the money.

Now, Id love to tell you that I had caused the divorces by giving these people the best sex of their lives. Fucking their brains out so good and proper that the only logical conclusion they could arrive at was to leave their subpar partners (not to be confused with sub partnersyou kinky little shit) and beg me to spend the rest of my life with them. In fact, its my book, I will tell you that. Thats what happened. Really, my dick game is so good I caused divorces.

Okay, not really. It wasnt my dick game. It was my oral game. I verbally convinced these people to break up with their partners. I know, the dick thing is more believable. But this really is true. People watch my stand-up special Jigsawstreaming worldwide on Netflixand they decide they have to split with their partners. Its like The Ring, but for shitty relationships.

At this moment in time, the tally stands at more than 300 divorces, 350 canceled engagements, and more than 120,000 breakups.

People watched a stand-up special and actually broke up with their life partners? HAHAHAHAHAHA, I know! Right!? Unreal. And not humbling whatsoever. Any celebrity who says success is humbling is absolutely full of shit, by the way. Ive been a Z-list celebrity for about twelve months now, and I feel like a fucking god. O. J. Simpson was a scumbag of a human being and what he did was horrific, but I now officially understand why he thought he could get away with it. If youre famous, people believe you. They think youre smart. They trust you. They buy your book. Fools.

For the past few years of my life, Ive had a very untraditional view of love. Some would call it skeptical, pessimistic, and outright offensive. Someme and at least 120,000 other peoplewould call it absolutely spot-on. Ill allow you to arrive at your own conclusions. Despite what Twitter will tell you, you and I are allowed to disagree on matters and still be cool. We cool? We cool.

When I was younger, I was obsessed with the idea of love and marriage. I wanted to have kids (still do) and be married by twenty-one (thank a nonexistent God I amnt). I was trying to emulate my parents. They met at nineteen, married at twenty-one, and by twenty-five were parents to a future comedian with a love of swearing and an ill-fitting God complex. My parents are in love. Still. To this day. After all these years. They are total nerds.

Oh, they argue and disagree, and Ill get texts from my mum letting me know my father is a big, rude idiot. And he, well, he just loves her, from what I can see. They bicker, they fight, but I also know for a fact that they fuck like teenagers and I reckon theyre into some proper filth. Lets leave it at that. My gran might read this. (Though I also happen to have the same suspicions about that randy old tart. You cant have three kids without loving sex. Unless youre a devout Catholic. And even then I imagine knowing God is watching, like a cuck, makes it even sexier.)

Im very aware that many parents do an excellent job of hiding their problems from their kids, keeping up the illusion of a happy marriage just long enough so that the kids get out to university and can deal with their own traumas there, far away, with other emerging alcoholics, druggies, and losers. Maybe my parents are incredible actors. Maybe theyre holding out until my youngest brother goes to university next year. I doubt it. But only time will tell.

This relationship dynamic spans most of my entire family. Both sets of grandparents are not only aliveor they were at the start of writing this book (RIP Grandpa Sloss)but also still in love with the eighty-year-old version of the twenty-year-old stunner they fell for. Only one separation in a huge family tree. With that example set from childhood, how the hell did I end up the first one not to be married before he turned twenty-five? The only one to show no sign of having kids before hes thirty? The only one that has had a threesome? Well, probably for the same reason Im the first one in the family tree not to go to university. Because Im a fucking idiot.

No. Kidding. Its because of a plethora of other reasons that Ill get into over the course of this book. Which is about relationships, by the way. Cant remember if I mentioned that. And not just about love. Relationships with everyone and everything. Im nothing if not way too ambitious.

I used to believe in true love and the One. But I also used to believe in Santa and Bitcoin. People change. All through school I was desperate to get a girlfriend. I didnt have a particular girl in mind. Anyone would have done. I just wanted a girlfriend. Thats what people my age had, and girlfriends turned into wives and eventually mothers. Partners were glorified Pokmon, as far as I was concerned. I didnt need to catch them all. But I definitely needed one. Idve taken a fucking Weedle at that point.

I fell in love every single year during my time at school. I mean, I obviously wasnt in love with them. But I didnt know that. I was a twat. A twat filled with new hormones and an impossibly high bar on love. A twat that just wanted to find that other half hed seen everyone else find. A mimic twat. If youre reading thisKatherine, Sam, Laura, other Laura, Christine, Karen, Nicola, Lynsey, Lisa, Danielle, Rachel, and RhiannonI now understand and forgive you for showing me absolutely zero interest. And thank you for putting up with my incredibly awkward displays of affection. (I made one of them a clay hedgehog pencil holder. The fucking state of me.)