Some days I really want to say fuck it.
Anybody whose primary source of validation, acceptance of themselves, sense of achievement, or all-consuming goal in life is to get herself a good fucking (get noticed, have some dude in a bar look at them, etc.) is really just not worth your time.
If that's as high as you can aspire, I don't care where you live, how much you get paid or how nice your clothes are...you're white trash.
And I don't know about you, but I throw my trash out when I'm done with it.
Now, the caveat is this: I like a good fucking as much as the next guy. I'm a big fan of fucking. I'd rather have a good fucking than a nice lunch most days. What I won't do is trade a good fucking for my self-esteem, the keys to my car, my children's future, the security of my job, or anything else that's valuable to me.
Throwing your life, your security, and the lives of your children in the can in exchange for a good fucking is what makes you trash.
(I also believe in recycling, so don't mistake this for a once-a-cheetah rant.)
I'm not in any way suggesting D for you at this point, but are you looking at R for the right reasons? Short term, staying for the kids is ok IMO, but if that becomes the only reason, you may want to reconsider.
BTW, the kids were my reason to stay for the first 8 months. I had given myself a year to decide what I was going to do. FWW was regretful for the first 8 months, but didn't show much in the way of remorse. I dunno, something changed in her at that point. She began doing what I would term remorseful things. We're at 18 months now and in a better place.
Still, however, I do realize that it could ultimately be a dealbreaker. 2-5 years. Maybe your realization has come earlier.
I hate to set off a bomb like this so close to the end of the thread, but we can cross the Rubicon together if it gets legs.
Like many here in BMenz, I was one of those damned-near perfect husbands, if anything a bit too much of a giver and fixer. Didn't stop my WW from fucking a total sleazeball who had perfected the game of presenting himself as an Alpha, at least well enough to get her pants off a half-dozen times.
Very long story short, we R'd and are still married over 30 years later, but I spent a chunk of that time trying to figure out why & what the Hell happened.
Lots of things had part of the answer, but nothing made total sense until I started following Athol Kay, and his Married Man's Sex Life books and blog. Then, so many light bulbs went off in my head I could have lit up a football stadium all by myself.
WARNING: This is Hard Truth, if you're close to DDay you might want to wait, or take a peek with your eyes half-closed before you dive in. Can be Trigger City.
I read a lot of the posts on SI with new eyes. Scary.
[This message edited by MoreWould at 12:28 PM, August 20th (Tuesday)]
What was her ideal "size"?
Of course her AP was the fantasy version - he was the hottest, most flattering man she could pull. I mentioned that to her once and she said "Duh". That was what it was about - fucking the guy on the cover of the romance book, or Mr. Big, whatever. That's the whole point - she wanted the fantasy, and that just ain't me. As they say in basketball, you can't coach height. Or speed. Same goes with good looks that make women's panties wet. Drop a Ryan Gosling photo down in F&G and listen to the swooning. I know I'm not that - I've always known it. I can read a mirror. Doesn't make it suck any less. Probably why I'm in therapy.
...until I started following Athol Kay, and his Married Man's Sex Life books and blog...
Just browsing his site...that guy's got some pretty good shit. It's worth a look, and a not too far from the sort of stuff we're talking about here in the BMZ.
Going to give him a tentative approval status while I dig in deeper. Thanks for the heads up!
Athol Kay, and his Married Man's Sex Life books and blog
[This message edited by Betrayed444 at 1:14 PM, August 20th (Tuesday)]
Take care of your own needs. It's not my job to be a knuckle-dragging caricature in order to satisfy your deep-seated whims. We are not our urges. My deepest urges upon entering manhood were to crush my father's skull with a rock so as to assume my place at the head of the tribe and to eliminate every sexual rival by force. Guess what? I didn't. Trying to cater to women's innermost urges ignores their brains, IMHO. And that's the part I really married.
Note: I have a migraine and am cranky today, so I apologize in advance for the flippant attitude.
It's not my job to be a knuckle-dragging caricature in order to satisfy your deep-seated whims.
Damn! Now you tell me.
[This message edited by Later at 3:06 PM, August 20th (Tuesday)]
I have a migraine and am cranky today
That's me lately. If there were some way to know that if I filed tomorrow I'd get 100% physical custody of my son, I think I'd be gone.
I was inspired of course. He said some hard core shit that reinforced my resolve.
I know I've not added a darn thing positive today. Maybe tomorrow. Today I'm just not feeling it.
I am just waiting for the new thread to start.
In a day full of anger and triggers, that picture and post made me belly laugh. Well done sir.
I have found the perfect picture to start off the new menz thread.
So, I am waiting....