Okay, I tried to break my no backtracking policy, but I can’t. It’s not so much about the policy as it is the why. Hannibal isn’t reaching the minimum bar for what I require in a bitch, much less a secondary partner, so it’s all just moot. He’s one of those guys I’ll admire from a safe distance because he apparently doesn’t value me enough.
From what I’ve learned from Obsidian, Roissy, and others, there’s not even really any point in talking it over. He knows me well enough that his failure and the consequences are understood. The last time, I made the mistake of trying to save something that didn’t need to be saved, and got accused of obsession. I don’t want to have that argument again. I want to be able to have a beer with the guy, and talk like friends, and perhaps he’ll introduce me to someone more suitable.
The rest of my current prospects are younger than me, and have been, since my awakening, scooted into the, “No way,” pile. I’m friendly to them, and flattered that they’d like to get into my pants, but it’s not going to happen. I’m not built for the cougar thing.
I kind of wish I was. I wish I could just suspend disbelief long enough for something like that to be fun and not a headache. I wish I enjoyed teaching grown men how to piss standing up, but I don’t. I can’t convince myself that someone who isn’t old enough to understand that a gorgeous, young woman could leave them and take half someday, or become more addicted to whatever drug she’s taking to stay an unnatural size 4 and lock their kids in a basement for months, can value someone like me. A guy has to know something about real life to appreciate a real woman who doesn’t look like she stepped out of a magazine.
I understand that to a guy under 40, I’m just the person on the sidelines holding out a cup of water on their marathon journey towards the illusive unicorn…the hot chick with a heart of gold. I don’t have the heart to tell them that for at least half of them, that journey will end in divorce, and that for most of them, it’ll happen because she (perhaps rightfully) thinks she can do “better” than him. For most of the other half, the journey ends with a woman who looks like me or worse, but with none of the coping skills, and a much higher sense of unjustified entitlement. Whatever was shitty about their personality oozes to the surface when they’re 30 or so.
I was thinking about how perfect nature is. I feel very fortunate to have had one child. Western culture is imploding on its own masturbatory fantasy. In such a time, I could easily not have had any children at all. Women like me are dinosaurs, and the birth rates for cultured, intelligent people in Europe and the U.S. tell the sad tale. We’re not replacing ourselves because through the media and legal breakdown of the meaning of family, we’ve made the serious and the strong unfashionable. The herd is being led off a cliff, and we’re going to either be destroyed or absorbed by cultures that aren’t really better, just more realistic and interested in breeding before they’re too old.
I think if I had been more fully aware of this when I was younger, I’d have started a cult a la Dune. Actually, there’s still time. We could call ourselves the Zenietzsche Mormoslims or something, and make it a rule that everyone has to eat a natural diet and bring as many spirit babies to earth as possible.
Nah, I’m not a cult builder type, and besides, someone has probably already done it. It’s fun to think about, but in the end, the cold facts at ground level add up to this generation deserving what it gets for its stupidity. My time is just about over, and whatever “suffering” I’m doing for being underappreciated when I was young and even more fertile, the people who missed out will do more. I have one who, if she survives long enough, will do good things for humanity and her world. What others I didn’t have won’t get to do whatever good they could have done…and they won’t be in the number of people who believe in raising their own children or eating like humans instead of drones, or growing up on time instead of by some artificially imposed schedule.
The few others I know who have some sense, and have managed to make children who have some sense, should count themselves fortunate as well. Fate could easily have twisted a different direction. Whatever problems you’ve had along the way, there will be some folks with some sense in the next generation. While you’re here, remind them not to let the crush of stupidity around them break them. Remind them that you love them, and that love is part of what makes us human, and that they should follow their own hearts and their own instincts, not the trends and not the television.
Hopefully things will work out, but the truth is that cultures and nations rise and fall all the time. Perhaps western culture is doomed because it abides too much ideal and not enough practice. So we adopt principles that seem like a good idea, but ultimately destroy us because they are unicorns and rainbows and not horses and refraction. So we will adapt and survive, or we will fall. Not much ever changes for the independent thinkers. We’re different no matter what or where…but for certain, it’s easier to be independent in a western culture than it is in others. So if it’s falling, I’ll be sad to see it go.
2 thoughts on “Not Gon’ Be Able to Do It”
You’re a far better woman than I. I still have a struggle with ending things that I know should have ended months (if not longer) prior.
Cultures fall. That’s the way things go. Values and people will be replaced, until something happens (if something ever happens) that knocks us out of existence. Things will swing back around. We survived the height of Catholicism, after all.
I feel kind of silly now. He wasn’t disappearing. He just has the flu from hell, which is probably actually adenovirus, but nobody wants to say because they don’t want mass panic. It’s one of those presents you get as a parent on the first year your kids are in preschool here.
Still, he probably should have called to let me know he was approaching half death instead of letting me worry for a week. So he’s on probation. This is the part when I sit back, relax, and wait for whatever excuse they’re going to come up with even though I don’t care why. The truth is always the same, no matter what they tell me or themselves.
I’m not a better woman for this. I’ve just streamlined getting dumped. It has happened so often that I no longer doubt that I will survive it. Having direct and honest input from my bros helps A LOT in this. It’s better than having a psychic.