tl;dr Marriage lasted six months. I guess loyalty wasn't her thing.

Scramble

I was falling.

Her naked, weak body was practically on top of me, and I loved every nano-second of it. Glowing together after our first fuck, we felt nothing but each other's skin and the warm fuzziness of sleep approaching.

I was falling for her.

Three years later she walked down the aisle towards me. She was beaming, and I was breathless. We made it. It was the best day of my life.

"I have an idea," she said as I was scrambling eggs. It was a lazy Saturday morning, a treat for newly weds two months into matrimony. The living room wall still had bridal shower decorations. The fridge had a scribbled post-it about our upcoming honeymoon in Hawaii, still several weeks out. I mumbled, "What's up, love," from the kitchen as I studied our breakfast, trying to scramble to perfection. Our marriage just started, but she already declared the beginning of the end:

Why don't we divorce and go on our honeymoon as friends?

The eggs burned.

About Me

I come from a conservative upbringing. My teens and twenties were prototypical beta/bluepill, striving for a decent career, a sweet girlfriend, and maybe a family of my own.

Everyone was wrong about dating. By my late twenties, my internal compass led me away from beta/bluepill paradigms. Like Darwin on Galapagos Island, I took notes of my own little semi-alpha/redpill truths and tactics. Don't get a girlfriend, focus on having fun. Fuck her within three dates. Lead her; don't fall for her girly bullshit. Make out with her on the first date. I made progress in the sack, and I was damn proud of my Red Pill training wheels.

However, there is something that held me back, not only with women but in life: depression. Now, this isn't the clinical kind where I need supervision and medication, nor have I ever attempted suicide, and the few professional therapists I've met would agree I'm functionally healthy in the head. That being said, getting out of bed and feeling good about myself are the two most difficult things ever. It fucking sucks.

Then I met her.

Absinthe

I fell for her because she looked great naked. She fell for me because of my junior-alpha tactics. At the time I had just switched careers. It was a very risky move, since I left a decently-paying stable job and I knew I would struggle financially for some time, but my internal compass was leading me to bigger things.

Madly in love, the first year together was awesome. My dismal income as her boyfriend didn't matter because she was doing okay in her own career. I moved in with her and she paid for a lot of stuff.

A new romance doesn't cure depression, it turns out. There were many days I couldn't get out of bed, let alone do bigger things in my new career. I struggled and she tried to help, as any loving girlfriend would. I promised her the world.

My conservative upbringing kicked in, so I proposed. The day we were engaged is when her shit tests went from Bud Light to illegal hallucinatory absinthe, to a point where they were not tests anymore, but simply shit. Not even three hours had passed before she went full hypergamy on me, which lasted... until the day we filed for divorce.

  • How are we going to pay for the wedding?
  • Why aren't you making any money?
  • Why are so unmotivated to work?
  • Can you find a part time job to make more money for us?
  • Can you go back to your old job? Wasn't that good money?
  • How can we have a baby with you're like this?
  • You can't even get out of bed every morning.
  • How are we supposed to go on nice vacations when you're like this?
  • We need a new car soon. How are we going to buy that?
  • I don't want you to make a lot of money. I need you to make some money now.
  • I don't want to move to a cheaper apartment.
  • Why do you get to do what you want in your career while I'm stuck at mine?
  • I know you're depressed but you still have to make money for us.
  • Get a salary job or we're done.
  • Will we be friends after we divorce? What will our friends think of us after we divorce?

My favorite line is still the one that burned the eggs. We did make it to Hawaii as husband and wife, but the love was dying already. In the four nights at the romantic resort, we fucked once. And she didn't even let me finish.

Fights got worse. If we weren't fighting, the silence was deafening. One morning she screamed in the shower. It sounded like an exorcism. I pulled the curtain back only to see her look up at me, naked, panting in a deep feminine rage, her eyes focused on mine. That was it for me. I nodded quietly at her, packed a few things, and headed out. I knew that was the beginning of the end. A few weeks later we agreed to an amicable, no-contest divorce. We couldn't get rid of each other fast enough.

Looking Back

I married her and endured her shit, as much as I could. It was seven hellish months of marriage, which actually could have ended a lot quicker. What can I say? I was beta/bluepill then and, to my horror now, I actually blamed myself for her hypergamous, money-obsessed attitude. If I can make a little money, she will be happy with me. It turns out that wasn't true because once I moved out, I got a decently paying freelance job. What was her reaction? The woman didn't care for it.

Suicide was never an option, but after I moved out dark days were had on my end. Luckily, there's Reddit.

As a boyfriend, everything is still cute and sexy. As a fiance, things get a little serious. As a husband, make no mistake. You are only a paycheck to your wife, and everything else comes second. She is your wife.

The woman does not care for your struggles. Struggling with mental health? It doesn't matter. You need to man up, snap out of it, stop being selfish, and provide for her as her husband. Her nice life is at stake. She is your wife.

You exist to finance her comfortable lifestyle which she can share with female friends and on social media. My ex-wife never posted on facebook except for pics of fine dining and vacations. I want everyone to know I am living this nice life. I am his wife.

She wants to cut back on work, or maybe even quit her job. Maybe you're beta-bux enough to suggest it, once you can carry both yourself and her financially, because that makes you feel like a man. On top of that, her job is harder than yours, regardless of what either of your occupations are. She is your wife.

The woman does not care for struggling with you. Do you want to build a business? Do you want to go to medical school? Are you planning a career in architecture, writing, photography, research, acting or politics? Pick any path where you pay very hard dues for several years, and she does not want to go there with you.

"I would rather have you earn $50k a year than for us to struggle like this," my ex would say. She was making twice that at the time, so we could have lived modestly but comfortably on her salary alone, while I crafted my new career and eventual business. But no, her nice life was at stake. She would rather live a faux-luxury lifestyle that led nowhere, instead of struggling a little bit in order to enjoy the fruits of a small empire as king and queen.

To a woman, a man must be a finished product. Work-in-progress is worthless. What good is a beta husband if there is no bux to him?

Looking Ahead

I thank every day I am alive.

Divorce was finalized a few months ago. I have no hard feelings for my ex-wife. I wish her well, as I would for any person. There are no regrets, no bitterness. The memories of loving, fucking and marrying her sting less by the day. I am already looking back fondly on some stuff. Sure, it was a rude awakening, but I am better for it, completely.

I am thirty-three years old. Life for me now is simple and beautiful. I switched paths again and currently I'm building a business, something that combines my skills and experiences from my entire working history. By the end of this year I hope to have a small team working for me. I always disliked the label, but it was only until recently I called myself for who I really am: an entrepreneur.

I also lift, read, write, network, and go easy on the dating scene, for now. Being in semi-monk mode, my number one priority is building my business, and the focus and dedication seems to offset my depression more than anything else has before.

Along with a thriving business and better body, I plan on slaying local college red-heads within a year or two, maybe then I can take off the Red Pill training wheels. Marriage is dead for me, so is romance, and I can't be any happier.

Because hypergamy is the only bitch I love.

Lessons Learned

Elon Musk is divorcing the same woman for the second time. Take a goddamn hint.