Dark-Hearted Elations of (Wo)Men: Warning - Rambling Post Ahead

"In the land of Gods and Monsters
I was an angel
Looking to get fucked hard...."
      - Lana

so·ci·o·path

/ˈsōsēōˌpaTH/

Noun A person with a personality disorder manifesting itself in extreme antisocial attitudes and behavior and a lack of conscience.

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It's late or early depending on how you look at it.
I wake up at 4am.
Normally I wake up at 2am in the middle of the night most nights, but I went to bed early in an attempt to recharge after a long week of ********** and so I'm up at an odd time.

My girlfriend sleeps quietly.
My spider sense tingles.

I grab my phone before I go piss and slip out of the room silently.
In unsurprising fashion, my ex-wife has texted me a combination insult/request for sex.
I'm simultaneously unsurprised yet surprised.

I'm left with the familiar catch-22 of our divorce: if I don't respond she flips out, if I don't fuck her she'll flip out more. No matter what I do she'll blow up in irrationality and emotional outburst(s).
I know what she wants and I know in the larger picture she just wants to trump the new girl I'm seeing and find a way to stick it to my new girl. I don't intend to give her the pleasure...her girl brain telling her if she fucks me again, she can cajole me back into her life through my penis.
She's fighting hard to slide back into my life and despite her increasing anger and resentment and frustration I have to keep my boundaries rigidly defined and resist the urge to engage her abusive language and insults if/when we go to the arena of attorneys. Perhaps, she just wants a good old fashion hate-fuck but I know it's never as simple as they would have you believe.
With a woman, it rarely is. The days of being mindlessly and unequestionably governed by my dick faded the last few years slowly but surely.
She honestly doesn't cross my mind, save when she lashes out in an effort to be insulting or demanding.
I've considered changing my phone number.
Sad, no?
--

I leave work and my body is sore. The urge to have a drink comes on as it does on days when I have to take a break from the gym.
I resist the urge b/c I've only been out to drink 2 days in the past 3 weeks or so one of which was St. Patrick's Day which kind of doesn't count in its own way.
97% of me is fine and doesn't miss it.
That small part of me would appreciate the solace of a beer and a quiet bar and.....I change my thoughts before they snowball.

Her pleas for attention are continually growing more insistent.
I begin to doubt my ex-wife  has a boyfriend like she tried to throw in  my face.
"Good," I thought. "Go fuck him and leave me alone," I thought.

When I say it's over, I mean it is well and over and done and finished and inexorably ended.
--

The stripper from up ***** texts me the other day at work but I'm busy and my time's occupied for the weekend and I don't have the balls to drive up ***** and get a hotel and bang her out as quasi-therapist/support system/dick for her to ride while she resents some men yet loathes the ones funding her vagabond lifestyle and as I'm pounding her deep inside vaguely wondering what the world must seem/feel like to a girl like her flipping the 2-sided coin of manipulation and object of objectification.
I flash-remember my hand around her throat and her pretty blue eyes staring at my pleading for me, her nails on my back and chest and her arching into me as she shakes and cums on my dick.

I can pass on the insight and forays into the crazy life of impulse which I tend to eschew these days. I'm living in the cave with the monks for the time being and it's been pleasant simply going to work, training, and fucking my girlfriend with some bullshit TV thrown into the mix when I'm not reading at a bookstore.

I haven't contacted any ex's since my marriage ended nor do I have the desire to. Curiously, none of them have me blocked on fbook, which lends to the curious notion that they're not completely opposed to hearing from me or at the least would relish the opportunity to have me come to them only to cast aspersions my way. But then, who can know such things?
I wonder how far word has spread that the marriage ended. Again, who can know such things? I must always assume the word has spread further than I'd assume as people I've found are always far more interested in my life than I'd ever rationally assume.
I think about how I'm going to fuck my girlfriend tonight and block out the restlessness I know will set in unavoidably and accept the tithe I must pay to be normal for a bit longer. I'm broke from the divorce but it has proven welcome and in a strange way it's completely simplified my days and nights away from semi-chasing new pussy and training to simply getting to/from work and training.
I know tonight I'll fuck the shit out of my new girlfriend, the contentment will spread over me like a body high and I'll sleep for a spell, perhaps dream the dreams of a man as content as he can be when not suckling reckless abandon and adventure from the teet of life.

Feast or famine, always and neverending.

I recall St. Patrick's Day and the girl from Long Island (red motherfucking flag) who sat next to me, waiting for me to approach/open. It was clear off the bat we weren't compatible in a substantive sense or beyond a drunken-parking-lot-fuck-on-adult-drinking-national-holiday-of-sorts-way. But I opened the set b/c it's what you fucking have to do sometimes and b/c you have to flex the muscle and keep it practiced and taut and desirable. No one likes flabby shit.

She was surprised when I wordlessly left midway through the interaction as she smoked a cigarette with a friend. She wore too much make-up for me, I got the vibe it would happen if we both had a drink or two b/c we were too attractive enough for one another's standards and nothing much exciting was going on, but it was one of those the shape kinda fits in the puzzle type scenarios and nothing better permitting I could wrap my hand around her throat and fuck her over the back of her car her dad still pays for but I don't always have the drive for such things these days and I'm not sure what that means but I flash to recalling another girl who's service industry so her fade into drunkenness led to her more overtly hitting on me and kissing my chest on the side street and then I grew weary of the whole debacle and spectacle of the slide from waking day-time drinking to nighttime shenanighans and I headed home or maybe I didn't b/c I do know I lost my car and I slept the slight hangover off and woke up to train and sweat out what remained of my hangover then I withdrew from public/drunk life and began this spate of the normal life for what will last about another week then I'll probably get back after it and chase some new vag b/c I can feel the hunger building slowly but surely.

I don't think about my ex nor do I really miss the sex. Sure, she did what I wanted in bed...but they virtually all do. They all follow my lead and they all fall into the shape I desire and they all cum on my dick while I fuck them and I sleep afterward and sometimes they paint a picture in their mind and sometimes perhaps they don't and I never care nor stop to bother with wondering what the details of the painting portray. They all swear up and down and in time beg me to degrade them and do anything and every thing to them. They want me to bang them in every hole, to manhandle them to fuck them in the car, in public, in the shower, in their girlfriend's bed or on their homegirl's couch.

I'm sated for the time being with her tiny frame and the way she stares up at me intently while she sucks my dick and how she forces herself down on my dick before she's even ready for it but I know it's coming...I know the hunger will come soon. The hunger for some new vag. The need for something unknown, for something unfamiliar. The taste of lips unknown from whence they came....the taste of sexual tension and whether or not it comes through, the cheshire cat grin of the allure of uncertainty....of the gamble.

Does it ever get old?
It did...but then I'd never been married so I didn't really know what freedom felt and taste like....and now I do. Talk about the fucking king of fucking drugs. Freedom, motherfucker.
I think everyone should have to get married for a couple years....I see guys like me (not many b/c I"m a rare fucking breed not built like the rest) but I see them get married...and that is not the end....but the kid(s) they have are the motherfucking end. Then they are pot comitted and that's it....they are past the point of no return.

I would never trade this freedom I now havefor anything in the world having seen the other side. When you're married...the grass truly is greener on the other side.

I don't have kids....so perhaps divorce was more an option for me than for another guy out there reading this. But, I'll say this.....my buddy's dad told him this when he divorced his mom, "son, when you're drowning, you have to save yourself before you can reach out and save anyone else....otherwise, everyone drowns."

That's how marriage felt.
I was changing....becoming this lifeless person I barely recognized. I don't blame my ex-wife...I solely and squarely place blame on the institution of marriage itself.

  Good luck and happy hunting, you've been warned. Expect nothing, accept everything.
      - Yrs. in Christ