Is my life the way I expected things to be? Is my life the way I hoped things would be? Is my life the way I dreamed things would be? Is my life the way I would like things to be?
The answer of course is NO
When I was a small boy dreaming of growing up to be a train driver or racing driver or astronaut, nowhere in my dreams was a future where everything about being a man would be despised and punished.
As a small pre-pubescent boy girls were stupid and boring, so frankly speaking a world in which they turned into worthless sluts wasn’t anywhere on the plans, as girls weren’t anywhere on the plans, so no big deal, and the only thing likely to have changed that for a 7 year old is who is gonna cook my tea?
But, a part of the process of growing up is the realisation that dreams and reality are not the same thing, and the gap between the two is not altered one iota by how much you want X to be true, all that changes is how much it hurts every day.
I never set out to socialise with men who apparently beat the crap out of their wives, raped the shit out of them, indulged in crazy obsessive psycho behaviour towards them, or wanted to fuck their little children… if I had I would have chosen an appropriate career.
In most cases of course I never actually meet or speak to or communicate with these men in any way, just the wimminz they did all this shit to.
I myself am not that kind of man.
So why do I find myself, if not increasingly tolerant towards such actual behaviour, then certainly feeling like I have more in common with these guys, whether they be alleged abusers or rapists or paedophiles, than I have in common with their alleged victims?
When a wimminz lies to a man, at the point that the man realises that X was total bullshit, while he may feel a brief flash of anger, the predominant and lasting feeling is wanting to puke.
When a bloke watches his ex on a fuck site picking up verification after verification from different people every week, 99.9% of what he feels is wanting to puke.
It isn’t a desire to kill her, or rape her, or beat the shit out of her, and if any of those feelings appear they are usually there for no purpose other than to mask the feelings of wanting to puke.
Putting yourself in proximity to that wimminz, where you can say something genuinely monumentally stupid like “why?” and actually think you are going to get an answer that isn’t total bullshit, is no more than the height of folly.
It is that “not grown up yet” thing, where you think that somehow, just because it hurts REAL bad, there must be some way to bridge the gap between your dreams and reality.
If you really really really believe hard enough, you can fly.
Your first vehicle crash, your first accident where you broke something expensive, or where your actions injured someone, or where that fire got out of control, or where you lost something really important to you.
Think back, what you felt was wanting to puke.
It is a natural human reaction when presented with a situation where the carousel stops turning and the music stops playing and there, right in front of you, is a big yawning gap between how you thought things were, and how they clearly are now.
Abject immediate and total fear for your very life will make you void your bowels and bladder, you will piss and shit yourself, a natural and evolved reaction to enable you to better survive what is right here and right now a life or death situation.
Presentation with having to face the gap between what you thought was so, and what clearly is so, is not life or death, so your body learned a different natural and evolved reaction, puke your guts up.
Ask anyone who ever got shitfaced, puke your guts up and 10 seconds later you are relatively clear headed and able to think, 10 seconds is way too long in life or death fight or flight, but it is just fine for needing to hit the turbo boost button on your brain to assimilate the difference between what you thought, and what is.
AFTER you have puked your guts up, and faced reality, the best word to describe what you feel is melancholy.
You don’t feel BAD, you feel SAD.
ohgodIamnevergonnafuckingdrinkagain is said by people who have not puked, but should have, those who have puked feel an immediate improvement, and either get back at it or wipe the bile from their mouth and say damn that was some nasty shit.
All those “no” answers at the beginning, if they make you feel sad then that is fine bro, you’ll live, and if they make you feel bad then you might not, because you ain’t puked that shit up yet.
Wimminz and their cupid stunts ain’t alcohol and diced carrots, you can’t call huey and ralph down the porcelain pipe and rid your body of the poisons that make you want to puke.
But like when you first broke something or hurt something, it is a virtual, a mental version of alcohol and diced carrots, so you have to do the mental equivalent of hurling that shit out of your body.
If watching “your” woman with another guy, or hearing about it, or reading about it, doesn’t leave with you not much more than a bit of sadness and melancholy at the sheer waste, then you need to puke that shit outta your head and heart until that is all you can make yourself feel, even if you try, most times not even that, cos you ain’t trying to pick at that scab.
If it still makes you want to puke then you have not squared what you thought was, with what was, and you need to get that shit sorted, pronto, and only you can do it bro.
Only way to do it I know of is to embrace the reality, and laugh at yourself for being such a stupid cunt you ever bought the fantasy.
The new guy upstairs is gonna get treated the exact same way the old guy upstairs was, he just don’t know it yet.
So her girlfriend turns up and all three of them go out in her shitbox 2 door compact car, guess who rides in the rear seats….. it ain’t the slits.
So what did the old boyfriend actually lose, (his clean record, his flat deposit, his liberty for a bit) with respect to her?
Serious question.
Only things he actually lost were never actually there, so he never actually lost them, they were never his to lose, sure, he had fantasies and dreams, and when the time came to puke them up and that bile rose and he was puking in his mouth, like a good beta simp he swallowed it all down again, yummy, please sir can I have some more.
So I watch a skank I fucked for a while until she lied to be slide further down the gutter, and how she is around the level where she is meeting people who (unlike her tales of allegedly abusive raping ex’s) really genuinely don’t give a flying fuck about her, they are there to use her and use her hard as long as he puts up with the ever increasing demands, rinse and repeat.
And so we are back again to where we started, where frankly I have more sympathy with them, than with her, even though they are pond life at best.
Accept *that* reality, and all the wanna puke feelings are history.
