Trying to survive marriage

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Explore the mind of a married guy trying to get his marriage to what he dreamed of. With a sense of dark humor, drama and mixed with a bit of wit.

Submitted: August 14, 2018

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Submitted: August 14, 2018

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“What’s the problem?”  Said that Little whiny voice inside my head.

“Why it’s so dark in here?” With all my energy I tried not to scream to the top of my lungs…Don’t you see?

Everything is falling down, every dream, expectation, bleeding energy every moment.  This relationship is destructive in a very passive aggressive way, psychologically ruining every sane part of me. One day it’s all perfect, everything is possible, every dream achievable; the next day with no warning, advice or hint everything darkens and all you can think of is creating a new life. Maybe that way you hold on to that dear ray of light still fighting to break through. Your only focus every day is holding on to dear life to that ray of light.

Your mood meanders, adopting any and every mood you see on the tv shows you binge watch. First it was girls and you jump between emulating Adam Driver and Alex Karpovsky. “You got to get an interesting life and stop seing made up stuff” said that little voice inside my head. You can´t help it when your life is falling down into pieces, because that girl that you fell in love with is fucking up your peace, your life, your everything. Then you feel as you were friends with David Duchovny during Californication. You can´t stop imagining yourself in another town and get into the all so funny situations David gets himself into.

You, in an epiphany, a eureka! moment finally realize what is the allure and why you like so much those dramas and tv shows…the emotion. Yes the emotion, there is none for you to really feel! No despair, depression, happiness, life is an endless party as David said. No real depth, no preoccupations, no nothing, yes shallow, maybe unfulfilling to tell someone your deep desires and dreams, as if someone really cared about your dreams and hopes.  But you don´t get hurt, you fall down, laugh at yourself and keep going ignoring the shameful spectacle you just gave.  Anyway there is always a new guest star in the next chapter.

You spend hours and hours imagining that you fuck any girl besides the one that you married. It drives you insane…do that, not so fast, wait…oh..I´m done. “She doesn´t even wear a thong” I know what you are thinking…..and yes I´ve asked, begged, implore even but no luck. Every woman changes once she has a rock in their fingers, no doubt about it. When I was lucky still and haven´t committed suicide by marriage, we fucked in every place we could get ourselves into. Heck her mother almost caught us one time, don´t get me wrong, it was kind of a thrill. “I guess that when she calls you gay it doesn´t help” that damn voice won´t shut up. I got to get some wine in my system ASAP.

If you´re thinking by now…this guy is depressed, well I am. I wasn´t always like this, I did look like a ray of light; shit I was the sun. I had dreams, expectations; I was going to eat the world. But nope, destiny, God, Karma…Whatever you call it had other plans for me, as like in a past life I had killed someone or be shitty with my mom and dad. Nice deck of cards I was dealt. No, I don´t blame my wife for every problem or failed dream I have or had. I blame her for kicking me when I´m down and drowning me over and over again; just giving me enough space so that ray of light can peek through and as fast as it peeks, she closes the gap again…just enough to keep the light alive and with just enough hope that it doesn´t go out. That damn ray of light.

Your life goes by in stages, obsession after obsession. “That’s because you have an obsessive personality, mixed with some depression and narcissistic traits” SHUT UP…I have to get that little voice taken care of. One shotgun lying around up there and you might do the right thing, like Kurt. I accept that most of the time that little voice upstairs is to blame for everything. Planting second, third or fortieth chance, or making your day go from grey to black in one sentence. So getting back to the task at hand, obsessions are a way of escaping, yes also like imagining another life or planning to run away, they are just a healthy way of dealing with your problems. Think about it, obsessions make you forget and focus on a thing that you might like but end up obsessing over and in the process ruining the whole experience. Why? Because you go from years of learning and condense it into a couple of weeks or months, killing the process and just getting into the destination as fast as possible.

Those blocks of obsessions may grow in time and others just don´t. One block was about wine; lets do talk about wine for a bit. By the way it amazes me how having an obsessive personality I didn´t end up an alcoholic also. Wine, reds, pinks, whites they all make me long for a dinner with cheeses and other overly priced finger food. My top picks for wine are as follows: for reds first one on the list, at the very top Carignan. Old grape, like many people told me the old soul that I am. It´s strong bodied, mineral, dry, the experts say that when you try this wine you taste the terroir, and it´s the perfect analogy for life and meeting a person. You don´t get to know the person itself, just as an object of study extracted of her or his environment, you get to know a soul molded by their environment, their history, their terroir. Second on the list, Zinfandel, many complex notes and fresh fruits it really tastes like raspberries, as advertised at the bottle. “Then again how much is suggestion and how much is reality” again true little voice! Pink, until now white zinfandel, it´s perfect for when you imagine yourself living in your dream house and summer is starting and having a brunch with watermelon; it refreshes and gives you a buzz. Whites…still working on it.

Another block was guitars. Watching videos on the Tube about what guitar is the perfect one to learn to play, what amps and speakers etc. Imagining yourself playing glam rock, whole lotta love by Led Zeppelin or Cherry Pie by Warrant, any song by Foo Fighters and RHCP… you imagine yourself being a rock star, but not doing it for the money, just for the art, trying to emulate and bring back the true reason why artist did what they did, not like now just to get famous and rich. But, being the obsessive person that you are, you end up buying a Gibson LP, with a price tag north of $10k…jiust to end up canceling the order when reality sets in and you remember that you can´t play music. Back in highschool you ended up in choir and sucking at it, the other options were guitar or piano and you guessed it…I sucked at it all!

Dealing with an alcoholic spouse is not ideal when you´re battling with your own daemons and have to slay your own and keep in control the other ones that roam free in your wife´s soul or elsewhere. Yes…a little book of surprises I married into. Everything was ok, we drank, got buzzed together, had fun…it was perfect. Until something changed, she started making messes and yelling at me, telling me she hates me and what not. Conveniently she forgets everything she ever said, every hypothetic knife she stuck at my back. Once more and I´m out! But then again that voice comes along and sais “one more chance”. Difficult to divorce someone when you have obsessive personality.

You know what emotion all people should chase? The one that you get on Christmas day, that seasonal depression that comes along before the holidays is gone, and you´re left with a sense that everything is going to be ok. No matter what life has thrown at you, you will be ok. Like a fog has lifted and you find yourself in front of endless possibilities, you can be anything you want. “Yup, that feeling, that environment should be up here with me every day” finally you make sense little voice, maybe just hold up emulating Kurt a little longer.

By now you must be thinking something along these lines: this guy is complicated and isn´t happy with anything. Probably I am, probably I´m another victim of pop culture and light culture, victims of Disney movies; for that matter, most of Hollywood movies have this in common: happy endings. Nope, not that happy endings you perv, every movie every story everything ends happy. Yes probably there is conflict, a death in the middle of the plot maybe, but the main character always gets the prettier girl. Not all movies but the big blockbuster movies are like that. You assure yourself of a happy ending seeing one of those movies. That’s why Girls and 13 Reasons Why are so new and fresh. They talk about real life and in real life my dear friend, you don´t end up banging Embeth Davidtz or Marisa Tomei. “They are not THAT hot”, you again...damn. Yes my little voice you might think that, but those are the girls that you could have a real conversation about important issues and go deep into the intellectual part of yourself, discovering your hiding scholar, your inner snob.

Everything comes in a flashback, like a flash flood. Why you fell in love with your wife. She made you experience things, took out of your bubble. Feeling those braless breasts under your worn out t-shirt…feeling that warmth in her body. Yes it was fun, yes there is a little bit of love left still in your heart and mind, you keep choosing her, until that last moment you don´t. “What happened?” Well little voice, stay until the next chapter, same channel, same hour to find out.

Maybe she was a solution to a problem that I had, maybe I truly fell in love with her. But then again, that’s a problem with the men in my family, not to be deterministic at all. We fall in love hard and fast, and when the hangover sets in and you realize what you’ve done or with whom you are it´s too late. Every member in your family likes her and holds you accountable for her happiness. Yes, she made me grow and I like her for being a strong woman, facing her daemons, fighting against a non-expressive, emotional stunned father and  a mother that blames everyone but herself for everything, surviving an abusive sibling. She was perfect in every way. But again, I guess her daemons took control of her, not always but sometimes specially when fueled by spirited drinks.  I truly don´t know what she wants from me. But then again, every woman looks a man into what they can make them, a project to take care of, not a man for truly what he is.

You week fuck! Excuse of a man! Fight and make a shit of money and  travel every day of the year, and afford every whim of hers…we´ll be ok”, Well if you could make a shit ton of money it will mask the problems. She will spent it all in trips and clothes, while you spend your time doing what you really like. Both apart, regrouping once in a while, no depth, no problems…utopia for that matter. “Don´t be a pussy!” Watch it! Your pushing it! I might go up there myself and go Texas Chainsaw Massacre on your ass little insignificant voice! SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Although..you make an interesting point. Not about making money to maintain your marriage, but just making money. That way you will fulfill every dream you have, about enjoying wine and sushi, with tomahawks, a bit rarer than blue please. Whatever wine you want you can have, like Johnny Depp, you can have those parties that you weren´t invited or attended when you were in highschool. You can fulfull every dream you have! Not such a bad idea! But then again, masking the problem.  You dream about everything and every place you want and will go to or fulfull, but what about real life? “That’s the beauty of it don´t you think? Its perfect, its utopia!” Having enough money to buy whatever car you like, whatever guitar and finally get a decent teacher and get you playing in no time. Whatever wagyu beef and fugu you want. Whatever plane, oh yes plane you want… Buying a Chateau Margaux 1787, Screaming Eagle Cab, Isabella´s Islay and mix it with Coke. “Don´t they say that satisfaction is the death of desire”  Why did you do that? Why did you ruin my perfect idyllic dream, imagination, wanting? Now you see why I want to go Nagasaki on your ass little shit of a voice.

“Tell them about the kid issue” Oh come on! You again, bringing another sore issue to my sad lonely present?! Whatever lets… the issue of the kid…or you mean children my illiterate friend. The woman in question has a sister that is lazy with taking care of her children. Among other tasteless and more serious tidbits that border into grand theft. But back to the task at hand, my wife is beginning to look exactly the same when it comes to child caring abilities. How do I know this you ask? Well we got a dog, a pug named Mars. So, we had a deal, we share the taking care of the dog, shared responsibility for the life of another of God´s creature. Guess who bathes him, takes him out on walks, although we did that together sometimes so I´m not taking ALL the credit. But again, I picked up his do-do and cleaned the yellow puddles he left when we went out and returned to our loves nest, asi if…  So she wanted him to understand on the first try, if he was in danger she would say..ok your problem…to the dog! That glimpse into the future of this woman and my kids did not seem so nurturing and loving and caring. But who made her understand…being a lawyer and all.

There is a serious thing that we need to address here. That is escaping from reality. We´re all guilty to doing it, just too hypocritical to admit it. We sometimes, most of the time, need to escape our reality. Not because it’s unbearable and hard, but because everything comes with baggage and problems. A baby comes with mustard colored shits, middle of the night crying, but then again it’s the most important, special gift you ever receive. There is always a negative side to a positive side my friend; I hate to use this but Ying and Yang mother fucker! So, back to escaping, there are culturally approved ways of escaping reality, and no I don’t refer to legalization of marihuana. I talk about sports, or movies, or a good book. You don´t think about your reality, you lose yourself in the moment and it’s perfectly fine. In my case, I don´t think it was all about escaping, it is about being comfortable. “What in the world do you mean?” I can´t get away from you, can I? Remember that I told you about depression and other psychopathologies? Well I feel at home being in discomfort. Think about it, I once heard that the only time that a runner gets high is when he stops, well…I feel good pushing it, going balls to the wall. That’s the beauty for me, to succeed, even to enter some of the sports that I like, marathons and cycling, you have to be obsessive, push yourself, be self-destructive, play dangerously with eating disorders and tachycardia, go deep into pain and punish yourself…faster, longer, higher.

Sometimes you incorporate your imagination, you’re wanting to escape your reality with the actual thing that you use to escape reality. “woooa that sounds complicated” Well mi little voice, my little friend, it´s not. Escaping with a bag of clothes and your trusty and only friend; that friend that is there no matter what, you can talk to her every day or just once a year, she will be always there, together you spend very good times, see new places, suffer together, compete together and find ecstasy together…your bicycle. You pack your clothes, your bike and a go pro…in hope that you make it as a youtouber. Traveling through Europe in your bike, hitting the most iconic and hard climbs that you see at the Giro d´Italia, Tour de France, and Vuelta a España…maybe incorporate some of the classic, Milan-San Remo or Paris Roubaix. The Ventoux, La Bola del Mundo, Zoncolan, Alpe d´Huez…etc. Only you, the bike and the Gopro…talking to your viewers how hard this climb is and remembering when Lance attacked Ulrich, Pantani, out sprinting Mario in your head. Sprinkling some wine tasting in Italy, France, Spain…making new friends, spending nights with the girl with the nice ass and blonde hair the one with the Giant, or the Spaniard girl with that sexy accent of hers, no complications, no commitment just the moment, just passion for the bike, the mountains, and of course the girls!…endless possibilities. That´s the beauty of it, any person can be a youtuber, just take a simple course on filmmaking or vlogging, and do what you like the most, don´t chase the money chase the ideal, the passion. You see…you escape your reality traveling with the bike, that makes you escape your reality. Creating a new reality, your brand new beloved reality, “ yes but the problems go wherever you go”.  Shit…

Don´t get me wrong my friends, there were some amazing nights, influenced by the green fairy, Kool Aid if you know what I mean, that were magic. I remember going to a little town in Guatemala called Panajachel. It’s the most amazing lake in the world, its party central also. There is a famous bar there, where they play rock and “the piano sounds like a carnival and the microphone sounds like a beer…”  The lucky few that have been there will get exactly what bar it is, and you will probably see me there once in a while. We had the juice and listened to music and screamed our lungs out singing to our favorite and iconic songs played live.

“Ella durmió al calor de las masas
Y yo desperté queriendo soñarla
Algún tiempo atrás pensé en escribirle
Y nunca sortié las trampas del amor

De aquel amor de música ligera
Nada nos libra, nada mas queda

 

No le enviaré cenizas de rosas
Ni pienso evitar un roce secreto

 

De aquel amor de música ligera
Nada nos libra, nada más queda

 

De aquel amor de música ligera
Nada nos libra, nada más queda


Nada más queda
Nada más queda
Nada más queda”

It was amazing, the haze the cold brew gave me. But, as it all sadly does the night came to an end and the devil was waiting for us. To argue our way to the room and name calling came flying of her babbling mouth hitting me like waves on a rock. Next day…well it was time to carry the cross form last nights Kool Aid.

What about dad?” Oh man…my dad. I never saw dad give my mom flowers or kiss her, or do something romantic. Because my dad and mom divorced when I was around 5 years old, I don´t remember any of him when I was at that age. Almost all people remember what their life was like when they were that old, not me; probably because it had a strong impact on my unformed psyqie, or whatever. Maybe that’s why I can´t relate I can´t seem to nurture long lasting relationships, my education on the subject was movies, and as we have covered before…it’s not real life. Excuse me, life after the romantic movie it´s not called porn, sorry about that Justin. It´s more like ending the party; imagine you being in the sac with a beautiful girl all your senses divert to your cock, your skin is on fire but very sensitive and you are in a battle between being touched and not, you lose yourself, you lose time it’s perfect…and you have an orgasm of a lifetime…then you get up of the bed and its done, no more of that mind-blowing sex you just had, no more, because you are dead. It all comes down to pleasing her with stuff for the house, or painting whatever, changing light bulbs, killing tiny spiders that are blown up by the female mind. End of the party.

Keeping on the subject of my dad…I idolize his family, were a tight one that’s for sure. But my dad it’s not such a good role model. Chronically depressed, substance abuser… a lot like me for that matter. I love him, for some issues he is a perfect role model, caring, understanding, yelling me once in a while for messing up. He is a person, a human being. With faults, looses and victories, bad parts and good. I understand and I don´t want to have any other father. I love the imperfect and he is one imperfect SOB.

I know that you want to hear a bit more about myself. My past, like in some way try to understand why does he say the things he says and believes. As you recently know, I was raised  by my mother and grandparents. Yes, but that´s not the same as seeing your dad give flowers to mom ok! Moving on, my mom a single mom, lost two babies after I was born, which lead to being over protective, sheltering me a bit too much. That is good when you’re an infant that can barely walk and might hurt yourself, but it’s very bad when you´re a teen and just thing about banging the brains out of a girl you like, and so naively mistake by loving her. So, when I came of age and I didn’t have anything stopping me from eating and drinking a bit too much, (remember the sports…and eating disorders etc…well that function to me as a framework or laws to follow, don´t drink, empty calories and you´re trying to either lose weight or maintain a weight that is too low for you, all the time), so after the cycling stopped being a hard core thing for me, my wife came along. Showing me the pleasures of traveling and indulging in late night parties and alcohol, that for a moment was awesome, nice, and extraordinary; but I guess that habits have a nasty trick of coming back. Besides, she wasn´t alcoholic back then.

We haven´t talked about my wrong doings. I do have some. This is a thing that can be tricky for me “you pussy” again that little voice…Hey up there! I´m going to leave this shotgun in the back closset ok? Sorry for that disruption. So…I was saying…its tricky for every person man or woman to admit his or her wrongdoings…why? Because it destroys your own self-image, you see cracks on the mirror. The thing is that the mirror is fine, in every mirror, brand new one, or old or a car window or wherever you catch your reflection, there are cracks. The cracks you did not know where there or even that you had cracks anywhere. Now, I talked to some of my friends that happen to be girls and talked them in a way not appropriate for a married man. Don´t get me wrong, I was not pursuing anything romantic or whatever. A very special friend, Trinidad, we did have a romantic and carnal relationship long ago, I understand her and she understands me. Why it did not happen anything with that girl you ask? Well we were in different paths at that moment in life. I joked that she had three personalities. She is amazing. Back then she was an array of emotions I can´t put into words. Let me do my best, she was a wild and free soul, wanted to experience the college life to its fullest, was not happy with her life and looked for something more. Always wanted to get what she wanted right now, like that expectation or despair for something, she was a sad soul, like deep inside something happened to her. I loved the imperfect Trinidad. We keep in touch, on and off, just talking by email. She´s getting her PhD now in something. That’s a big unfinished chapter for me, not because of what might be, what we might turn our relationship into, but because she understands me deeply. I profoundly wish I get to see her again, talk and drink with her a Guiness. (favourite beer by the way).

Sometimes I find myself dreaming awake of Trindad, about escaping to her, to her words and hugs and looks and her camera and paintings. Damn…I really want to see her again.

Guess it´s true, I´m not good at one-night stand But I still need love ´cause I´m just a man These nights never seem to go to plan I don´t want you to leave, will you hold my hand?

Oh, won´t you stay with me? ´Cause you´re all I need This ain´t love, it´s clear to see But, darling, stay with me

Anyway, I wrote to her, and my wife found out. I told her about a feeling that I had when I was young. That feeling is almost like the Christmas feeling I told you about before, its when my family and I went to Antigua and we returned at night. It was raining. The feeling is like being safe, secure, the sky might be falling outside but I´m with my family and I´m ok. Well, I haven’t told that to anybody, not even to my wife. Strike one.

Let’s go for strike two, another friend of mine, we share the love for cycling. If you haven´t experienced training or racing bikes, it’s another world, intense, painful and intimate. Yes, intimate because you push yourself you go deep and that bonds you with the other people doing it around yourself. My best friends are from the cycling world. She loves Nerds, those little candy made by Wonka, I love them too. So, on her birthday I sent her a gift of those little fuckers, with a note that said “If you think that I long to see you, you are right” or something like that. I don´t know why in the hell I had a picture of the note, and you guessed it…my wife found it. It was just before we got married, we were together yes, but that not did not meant anything. I look at her as my little sister, and she looks at me as her brother form anotha motha! Yes she´s beautiful and hot, but I´m not into statutory rape. When we met I was in college and she had four-ish years to go until graduating high school. Some might say that I´m wrong about the note, or some other will say I´m right. It doesn´t matter, she read it and she felt offended and whatever. She did a mess.

For the “You´re out!” My cousin… Remember that my parents divorced when I was young…well my mom did not take that well, at all. So I wasn´t exposed to the family of my father. Guess what mom? I found and bonded with them. Let’s get back on track. With my cousin, yes female cousin, we met in the penultimate year of high school. She had just lost her mother and I was thrilled to get to know my dads family. Also, remember by addictive personality? Well I talked to that girl every day, falling asleep at the phone, talking about dreams and houses and what not. My relationship with her is of cousins, yes we share and talk about intimate things, but as close cousins as family. Guess what my so called wife? You don´t have sex or anything with family! But you guys guessed it! She didn´t looked at it that way…again a mess she did. No, she did not leave me because of that things above. But it sent us into couples therapy. “ I can´t believe you went to that humiliating therapy, that just emasculates you” HEY! Little voice, do you realize we are psychologist you stupid voice!.

I sometimes dream about a girl…I don´t know who she is, sometimes its Trindad, sometimes I can´t see her face, but feeling loved. She hugs me and I feel at pace and loved and safe and comfortable. Not like in real life that I have to walk on eggshells every damn second of my life. Trying to fulfill some expectation of hers. The thing is that nobody can fulfill her expectations, because she keeps rising the bar, don´t get me wrong, I want to feel pushed and work every day to fulfill my dreams and try to get to hers, but there is a difference between encouraging and feeling coerced. She wants somebody to fulfill HER dreams, but throw to the trash your dreams. Or at least that’s what she makes me feel. “She has a right to her dreams you bitch.” Yes but not at expenses of mine.

You should fight for your marriage, and fight for her! Its true that she has done damadge to you, irreparable damadge, that doesn´t and will not go away. Things that will remain with you for ever. But she is still your wife and you love her.” Little voice in my head, my dear friend, remember all the things she said and did and all the ways she stabbed me when she was drunk, not understanding me, not caring about me? Just trying to complete her agenda not caring about me and my dreams. Remember all the times you asked her to do something and she did not, just because she did not want to? “Yes its true, and you´re right. Life is too short to forget about your dreams and work for someone else´s dream. She´s your sife but not the love of your life, she´s not a real friend, she doesn´t understand or care. You are right my friend down below.”

The endless spiral comes back again. Again, she tries to get my good gracious, but this time I´m cautions, I don´t forgive her right away, maybe not at all. I move with extreme caution, like navigating through a live mine field. Trying not to set one off. I need to take care of myself now, enough with trying to please her and seeing that she loves me deep deep very deep down. I´m tired trying to do all the things that she likes and wants and giving up my things. I´m done. Soon everything will end, everything will stop and die. Sounds quiet up there…no little voice. Maybe..just maybe this is the beginning of the end and the beginning of the rest of my life, the birth of one of my day dreams that I tried to escape before. Maybe…

Don´t get me wrong, she is an awesome person, some times. She has ideas for helping our country, the less fortunate, and its inspiring. It almost makes me reconsider moving out of the country. But, this is not a black and white thing, some days it is, and the decision is clear (black), but others like when she´s sane, calm and in control of herself its clear also (white). I have to make a decision, to withstand the rollercoaster or pull the eject handle once and for all.

I by a long shot consider myself a role model of any sort. But here is my two cents on marriage, it doesn´t work.  For all of you happily married people, more power to you my friends, keep doing what you are doing and not doing whomever you’re not doing, both of you. In my opinion there is no destiny that states that some people are not meant to be married, I just think that it might be with the inability or not wanting to change the things that make you who you are and that annoy the shit out of the other person. Think about it… It’s not that you can´t love the other person, maybe you can´t connect with the other person; once the chemical imbalance of sex and falling in love is over.  That crack whore, that junkie of your brain wants those neurochemicals, craves them, but once it gets its fix, where is the love, the connection. Some say that love is about choosing the same person day after day, in spite of their shortcomings and mistakes, well maybe some of us get tired of choosing the same mistakes and shortcomings of the person.  You have the right to be tired, annoyed or whatever it is, especially when women change after they have the rock, or move in. It´s hard to deal with a spouse, throw in the mix alcoholism and you have the perfect storm. Life is not that Meg Ryan and Andy Garcia movie.

So again…calm before the storm. Ever had a period when everything was going ok? But you still felt afraid because its too good to be true? I know most of you are guilty of this. I´m not an exception. Feeling good, happy, optimistic, letting myself dream again of a future with my wife…when disaster comes along. She starts accusing of something she imagined that you did.  More specifically accusing you of being gay. It´s contradictory…she said to me one time, have more friends, more men friends, go out with them etc. guess what happens next...I start talking to an old friend of mine, friend of my family and mine. Very nice guy, reminds me of one person that was a father figure for me for a long time, before he died. So..now she tells me why are you sending pics of dinner to him? Because he´s my friend. Do you talk to him every day? No… I ask him how´s his wife doing because she´s sick….so..there goes the naughty night we had planned. There goes another day down the drain, fucked up by the fucking insecurities of that woman.

Maybe all that married woman want is to live in the old American tv shows. Where the dad gets up bright and early, go to a boring job, return to have dinner and that’s it. Life is over. The routine, the only imminent escape of death.  I don´t like or want that, I want to do what I want when I want, preferably with my wife at my side.

So you think by now, after all of this verbal diarrhea and feverish memories and whatever this is…that he is fucked up and that there is nothing that satisfies him. This might be true, but the thing is that the most important thing that you must take out of this form of communication, is that there is no destination, no promise land, no real happiness, and it might sound like a cliché that things will not give you happiness that you can´t buy happiness etc. But the real deal is that you must protect yourself from being another victim of the world, that the mindfucking of pop culture and movies are telling you the exact opposite. That being a millionaire, having everything that you want is true happiness….ladies and gents that’s not true, you make your own happiness. Ever see a poor smuch in a beat up old Toyota smiling ear to ear? Ever see someone walking down the street that looks like he doesn´t have a place to drop dead in, but he looks happy? Well those are the people that have true happiness, not the millionaires, movie stars and rock stars, yes the happiness they have is chemically induced and fake. You know the truth my friends and that is that happiness is a state of mind and you have to work for it. Cheers!


© Copyright 2018 J.F. Taft. All rights reserved.

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