Granted! He sucks all your blood and marries you, and soon you are expecting an adorable little bloodsucker. Life (or rather the lack of it) is well.
Until the townspeople raid the castle, drive stakes through the hearts of both you and your husband, then cut out your baby and cut it's head off, and leave the remains of all three of you to burn in the sunlight.
I wish I was part cat.
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"Sick cultures show a complex of symptoms such as you have named . . . but a DYING culture invariably exhibits personal rudeness. Bad manners. Lack of consideration for others in minor matters. A loss of politeness, of gentle manners, is more significant than is a riot."
-- Robert Heinlein in Friday
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