Weekend Trifecta: Adult World Problems in Rambling Form

Pretty Much: "Society will do its best to encourage this man to marry because it needs competent but unexceptional men to commit themselves to one woman, serve corporate masters to fulfill the consumer wants of their wives, and spawn children who will be obedient workers and compliant citizens."

T-Minus 3......

I'm tipping this girl two dollars. She must be younger than me, but her face wears the worn look of irritation that this is where she makes a living and hating me for being a man that would pay for her to rub her tits on my face but simultaneously hating herself for needing me to tip her in order to put food on her table.

She looks like she just took a big bite of a shit sandwich.
I wonder how she plans on covering her fee on a Sunday night with that expression. She's not a bad looking bird from a half-distance. She has excellently done fake tits. I don't even like fake tits, and am even more rarely impressed by them. Hers are seriously phenomenal.

I tip another platinum blonde girl, her face also, up close, is lacking a certain youth and freshness to it. Her lower back is smooth, her ass tight, her legs supple and strong...but the face....chipped and cracked veneer.
Given my choice of sports and hobbies, I still look younger than my 3* years, but damn, girl.

This will become a depressing consistency as the night presses forth. Another girl immediately opens me by asking if I want a dance. Wined and dined I must be. I'm old fashioned or something to that effect. A good looking Latina with nice legs, a thick ass, and medium sized breasts is nearby. Her braces give her that fresh-faced look.....but she's making the rounds to every not-white guy in the club.
I'm hit again with that saddest of the sad moments for a red-blooded man, single and with a pocket full of cash: none of the girls warrant much patronage. I have a pocket full of cash, I don't drink, and I don't feel compelled to spend any of the money I honestly took out with the sole purpose to blow mindlessly. I am by no means cheap in the strip club. It is not a free show. But I also don't just throw out sympathy. I resign myself to kill some time with my friends then head home to sleep and dream dreams of what I do not know nor recall.

T-Minus 2.....

Earlier in the evening, I was ***** dancing.
A woman * years my senior hits me with the veritable onslaught of logistical questions about marriage history, children?, where I live, how long I was married, the whole rigamarole. She has a nice thick ass and dark hair so I field her questions with detached tolerance.
A cute Asian girl also my senior dances with me and she has that lithe frame and footwork of a ballroom dancer but there's only the mechanical practiced nature to it, no sensuality. I feel apart from rather than apart of....I leave and get a cup of coffee and hit a meeting.

T-Minus 1.....

I'm having lunch with a guy I look up to. He's successful. He's good to all who know him. He's offered me help and advice when I needed it. In short, he's getting a divorce. He's grappling with the reality of the hurt it leaves with his soon to be ex-wife.
I could see the hurt in his face. The agony of knowing you are wholly unhappy and now grappling with the reality of the other person in this equation.

I've been there. I agonized with it for some time before telling my ex-wife.
Ultimately...I had to be true to myself.
To stay in the marriage...I was lying to myself...to her...and to everyone else.
People, well, some people, were shocked. On social media we looked happy. People always do.
We were the crazy couple people complimented in public due to how we seemed so much happier than most married couples.
I snap back to my friend. He and his wife have considerably more intertwined assets, progeny, a life, or whatever they call it when you have parties together, mutual couples you spend time with (they won't be your friends after the divorce I learned), and all the other falsities and trappings of white American life. I know the long road, at least on some level, which now lies before him.
Freedom will be costly and it will be scarring, my friend. Godspeed.

Are there lonely nights in my new life? Yes.
Do I miss the expectations that came with the institution? Not once.
Do I miss the dinner parties and events and the look or the tone I'd get walking in the door late from the gym after dinner was cold or simply b/c some girl at work was trying to destroy her based on some perceived slight or rumor of gossip of secondhand shit talking?
To put it mildly.....no. Not one bit.
The craziest thing? My marriage was from what I've heard much much much better than most of the guys I've spoken to and with whom I've conferred.

I got out relatively scott free and even so it was an experience that still gives me pause when I recall it. The sheer amount of emotional volatility and the fallout and aftermath was enough to make me doubt I'll ever knowingly walk into that legal arrangement again.

I say this, yet I know, out there, somewhere is a good woman, a beautiful woman, who in an effort to keep her, I will try to make permanent that which should stay temporary (Oscar Wilde)...and the institution will change her, it will change our relationship...and it will end in tears and heartache and divorce.

--
It is only as I sit here now, Monday's malaise, that I see how deeply impacting this weekend was to my emotional person. This sobriety is a strange animal indeed.

Further Reading: HERE

I'm a romantic that doesn't believe in happy endings....that being said, Roosh puts it as thus: "I look in the face of long-term monogamy and I see the death of everything that made me who I am today."

It downs on me that I'm an adult now, or at least becoming one. Guys tell me things, and ask what my experience was like.
Real adult shit. Divorce. Jail. Work. The gym. Dating. Real shit.

I keep avoiding responsibility or the fool's bets I see all around.
I'm not sure which...but I will continue to stay true to myself at the cost of virtually all else.