“It’s the end of our story, you’re so fucking boring…”

3♥

 

 

 
New reader abledad comments:

“My friends still make fun of me for breaking-up with a lady the ‘2nd’ time that she went to jail. She was more proof of the correlation between ‘crazy’ and ‘hot’.”

 

I confess to laughing when I read that.

 

Not due to schadenfreude.

 

(I don’t care for such at all; I avoid it.)

 

But because I could relate so damn well.

 

I imagine many men can relate equally so.

 

 

 

Posh style wrapped seductively around boorish behavior.

 

Dragged into drama then out of the party.

 

Gin-phase‡ laments demanding endless, yet futile, comforting.

 

Going out to dinner just to end up in misery.

 

Hitting the club only to miss the dance floor.

 

If the above is senseless or vague to you:

 

Then you likely haven’t lived it.

 

Yet.

 

(If you haven’t, then lucky fellow, you.)

 

 

 

Now, I’ve said – many times – dealing with certain issues is par for the course if a man wants a woman.

 

So much so, I counseled men who refuse to put in the work to:

 

Stock up on tissues and hand lotion.

 

However, there’s a limit.

 

Compromise is one thing.

 

Total self-abasement is another entirely.

 

 

 

It’s no good owning a Ferrari only to have it in the shop ever other Thursday.

 

The repair costs – let alone the time without it being functional and of use – make it a fool’s bargain, at best.

 

A Faustian one, at worst.

 

 

 

Thus, as difficult as it may be (easier said than done, certainly):

 

Pause to realize whether the bucket you’re emptying onto the fire is water.

 

Or kerosene.

 

Then, continue.

 

Or leave to let it burn itself out.

 

And if you’re still morbidly curious (which I don’t recommend):

 

Social media will let you witness both the smoke and proliferation of ashes.

 

 

 

 

‡ Gin-phase is a term I devised for those moments a woman gets drunk at a party/event/gathering then sits on a flight of stairs somewhere in the vicinity and opens the floodgates to self-deprecation in hopes she can fish in the deluge for compliments.

 

 

3♥

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7 Responses to ““It’s the end of our story, you’re so fucking boring…””

  1. walderschmidt Says:

    The examples you give a mercifully vague except one – going to dinner only to be miserable. Only in this case, it was me being toxic.

    I wanted to spend a day – as close to 24hrs as possible – with a girlfriend for my birthday on my birthday or near it. But at the time her Mom was in the hospital recently for a surprise issue. I was understanding until we went out for my birthday. Dinner was fine (though I was a little mad that she was late as usual). But at the end, when I dropped her off, I was silent and angry (forgotten what exactly it was that set me off, if it wasn’t lateness/only getting two hours) and barely said goodbye as she got out of the car. She in turn got mad at me though the issue eventually got squashed as neither of us were in the habit of filling up buckets of kersone around fires. When she was near a perfect girlfriend when I my Mom had a stroke, nearly a year later, during a time where our relationship was flagging, I felt both grateful and embarrased at how I had acted.

    I realized, I was so self-centered at times that I was the toxic person. To this day, I believe I only got away with it because I had other good qualities that mostly eclipsed my bad moments. I still am self-centered today, just not nearly as much.

    Wald

    • walderschmidt Says:

      And no, I’m not gin-phasing. Just recognizing that just as girls can have crazy traits that rightfully drive women away, I believe men can too.

      And it’s taken me a while to recognize that.

  2. I at least feel some sympathy for the “crazy” ones. It’s the “mercenaries” that make me instantly do a mental calculation to decide whether it’s better to pay a professional $200.

    The last “mercenary” that I tried to date had me fixing her aluminum siding by the 3rd date. Her saving grace was that I enjoyed fucking her on the 2nd date…

  3. A♠,

    ‘Then you likely haven’t lived it.’
    The entire litany above. Post hoc quarterbacking is futile; you don’t see it until it’s some distance past you.

    ‘Compromise is one thing.
    Total self-abasement is another entirely.’

    It’s gotten so bad the two are nearly indistinguishable. But sometimes men can learn in no other way.

    Either way, it’s gonna hurt. Dancing with the ‘most dangerous plaything’ is like a rodeo featuring Siberian tigers for the unwary.

    (I doubt Roosh would take anything back but his ultimate conclusions differ little from what the proverbial ‘theologians on the mountaintop’ knew all along.)

    ‘Posh style wrapped seductively around boorish behavior.’ = gold ring in a swine’s snout, and so on. Homecoming royalty squatting in the parking lot. Toddlers playing with dynamite, as one wag said.

    Social media schadenfreude is tempting but when you see the next wave heading for the same precipice it’s really more salutary than anything else.

    JD

  4. A woman trying to control a man through emotions…if a man doesn’t get that at some point in his life, he never will.

    • The trouble is knowing it… and still finding yourself manipulated. Feels like a Sisyphean task to shrug those emotions off.

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