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My mom time-traveled back from 2045 and told me three things. First, no dating. Second, no wedding. Third, a "perfect" man would land me in the ICU three years after we got married. I thought she was out of her mind. But the guy actually showed up: sweet, considerate, pulling in a quarter mil a year, and handsome as a movie star. My mom took one look at him and smiled. "Sweetie," she said to me, "let me show you what a real beatdown looks like."