I went out with a guy a few years ago who was obsessed with death. Not that he wore pure black or anything, but it was all he could talk about. His uncle had died, his great aunt died when he was twelve, his friend's father had died. You get the idea. He couldn't have a conversation without bringing up some random acquaintance that had died or knew someone who had died. I never heard a happy thought out of the guy.
— Gabrielle, 33