I remember when she told me she'd break my heart. I didn't believe her.
It was my mistake.
That was 1997. It took fifteen years of marriage to finally arrive at a point where, ironically after years of trying to convince her that I'd never fall for someone else... she did.
It was sort of like being slapped by god, except that someone who slaps you exists.
When I realized how serious she was, I knew I had to let her go.
But then she didn't want to leave me. She wanted me to stay there with her as she threw herself at him, and he was even respectful of my "wishes" in this ordeal, even though they didn't, and never had, mattered.
I ran away. She was younger. She was everything that my wife had feared I would leave her for, and I foolishly thought I was capable of pulling it off.
So now I live with her. And her boyfriend.
I'm drinking to die at this point, because I don't know what else to do.
Should I just give up and go to AA? Should I ride this thing out and hope that the next life is better than this one turned out to be?
Before anyone suggests it, I've studied all the religions, and I've participated in several hundreds of hours of individual and group therapy, including mindfulness and Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT).
I'm just listening to a Billie Eilish playlist and crying a lot, and I don't know where else to turn.
I mean, exactly how dejected does a person have to be before they conclude that they just don't have a place in this world?
And what are they supposed to do when they realize it?
Killing yourself is sort of hard, and it takes a lot of planning and stuff if you don't want to fuck up and wind up in therapy, which isn't really that great because nobody actually knows anything more than you do other than platitudes about how great life is, even though they can't prove it worth shit.
Your story is incoherent in the middle
Drinking to die what a shitty way to go man. Just take off to another place asap. Then party party party.
Truth is, it's funny.
I mean, my life is a painful study in broken dreams, but it's also pretty funny if you're not me, and I recognize that.
So it's not like you're going to offend me.
I just want feedback. Literally anything.
I don't know what to do.
I've tried things you wouldn't believe, user.
But the ability to sleep with another person at your side is something that there is no replacement for.
It means that when you wake up, there is a reason.
Where does it become incoherent?
I ran away from my wife because she was in love with someone else. The person I ran away with was much younger, and made me believe that I had value and worth. Then she got a new boyfriend who is is a decade my junior and one of those swarthy "I've been to jail" folks who I can't compete with, and I'm just a sad, lonely old man now.
Does that help?
Oh so you're living with the new girl and her boyfriend? That makes more sense now.
That's a really weird situation to be in. You don't have family you could move in with? No job?
>Just take off to another place asap. Then party party party.
So... like, you realize that sounds like you're telling me to kill myself, right? I mean, I'm not really sure how else to take that advice.
As I said - that's complicated and requires a lot of planning and stuff.
I have student loans, after all, and they'll totally not care that I'm dead, and just seek to destroy my parents' assets.
Shit's fucked, dude. Like, you can't even just die anymore.
Yeah, I'm already probably going to have to go to collections for the lease I broke when she asked me to move in with her. She's not exactly a "new girl," but that's probably irrelevant, because anyone after 15 years of marriage would be considered new.
Does it make sense, though? It sure doesn't to me. I sort of feel like I've been double-cucked.
I know it's a loaded term. I'm using it in the Elizabethan sense.
The lease is good for a year, and she's on it.
I could move out, but I'd still have to pay for everything.
I have no reasonable way out of this situation.
I'm on paid leave with my job. I'm actually really privileged, and most people would tell me that I have nothing to complain about.
I mean, mainly I'm just really lonely and sad.
I guess probably most people are, though, so usually nobody gives a shit, because like who the fuck am I to suggest that I should be any different, right?
The problem is that I really actually have fallen for this girl.
Like, it's actually unhealthy, because she explained in excruciating detail how I'm "a dear and loved friend" to her, but there's just no way she could ever see me "like that."
I mean, just cut my dick off and feed it to me, right?
But does she care enough about me to find someone who might see me that way?
Naw; that's gross.
And have there been times when I'm pretty sure she had at least a little bit of doubt?
Probably. It doesn't matter. It never matters. She does what she wants, and it really barely ever has anything to do with me, and that's the only thing that hurts.
I just wish there were anyone who didn't hurt.
>I just wish there were anyone who didn't hurt.
Hey now, that's epitaph material, lol...
Like, seriously though. That's epitaph material.
Epitaphs are just things you imagine justifying killing yourself, though.
I mean, what's the difference between some clever tombstone and a suicide note?
Not a lot. Probably none. It's the thing you want your death to stand for. And for me, like, everyone I've ever known has hurt me somehow.
It's not like I haven't also provided hurt to the countless others I've met, but, in terms of what actually makes you give up on life, it's the fact that you can't meet anyone who isn't somehow going to hurt you at some point, and everyone you talk to about it just says "yeah, no shit - people are mean," and you keep hoping to prove them wrong, but you're constantly hurt by others, and at some point you just go "okay, like I guess I can't prove them wrong."
And so you drink a bunch and try to dream of whomever doesn't hurt you, and that's probably why you're going to die in your mid-forties from some multiple organ-failure.
I suspect that as nice as most people would be in terms of condolences for that, they'd also not be at all surprised, because they have whatever it is that prevents them from such a fate, and which they secretly think they're better for having, and which they privately figure is just some "winnowing out of the herd" or whatever they have to believe justifies it.
And they might be right.
I mean, maybe I'm alone and sad because I'm just a sad and lonely person who will die alone.
I've had a psychiatrist look me in the face and tell me that maybe I'm "just not a happy person."
I'm never seeing that psychiatrist again, though, because that seems sort of fucked up.
But in a way, I guess I can see what they were saying.
I mean, maybe I'm not. I think about the general state of people, and they all sort of seem really miserable, and I sort of figure that there must be some way out of that, and everybody basically beats me down and tells me that I'm obviously some kind of stupid for thinking that.
So, I guess if that's all there is to it, then I'm dumb.
I guess I just want to be happy, even if others call me dumb for it.
I mean, if you're happy, then who cares what other people call you, right?
So just tell me that you're happier without me. It wouldn't be any different than anyone else who's hurt me.
I don't actually know how to process anyone who feels any different, to tell the truth.
See how I wrapped it back around to the idea of the epitaph that read "I just wish there were anyone who didn't hurt?"
That's an old bit.
And It's also true.
What a win for comedy.
I mean, I hurt myself like Trent Reznor and Johnny Cash were jerking each other off in a locker room.
Like, that's not a factor. I'm talking about other people.
Where are they?
They're making promises with every sly wink as they fade into a Mazzy Star song, though.
But when it ends, where are you left being, you fucking cuck?
Lololol... you really won't ever get it will you?
You are abandoned.
Just be alone. Learn to love it.
take everything you can carry in your car or on your back, and just run. Run until the sound of silence surrounds you. Once you're mind is clear, you'll be ready to continue. That, or just sabotage the boyfriend
The chances of finding some sort of fulfilling love at your age is a joke. It just is. Whether you're a man or a woman, or gay or straight.
Like, it's just a nightmare, and it's where you don't want to be, and yet you're there, and so you drink yourself to death.
It's not that complicated.
You've lost all hope.
I have no idea what to tell you other than maybe the next life might afford you better chances.
>Run until the sound of silence surrounds you.
It won't take very long.
Silence is a larger sound than we want to admit, after all.
don't think I mean killing yourself, faggot. I mean literally go out and just drive (once you've sobered up) and fucking go, just go. Unless you're an absolute poorfag or gave her all your banking info/money, you should have enough dosh to take some time in contemplation.
I mean, if you want to play apocalypse, then I have about enough to get me to Columbia.
But you're not paying attention.
There are obligations I have in this body, and I'm not willing to pretend they don't exist.
I was born to parents who loved me. They honestly tried to provide everything they could for me. I had a fucking swing-set, and a bunch of toys growing up.
Could they give me friends or popularity? No. That's not their job. They did what they could, and the idea of burning them in the efforts to seek my own fortune is profane in ways that I would object to even if it didn't come down to a loan officer who comes after them for the $130,000 in debt that they would owe if I disappeared - as much as I fucking want to, don't get me wrong - and until that issue is resolved, then it's sort of a non-starter, and I guess I'm probably going to die in debt to them.
Welcome to most of America.
The weather varies, but otherwise it's a complete shitshow of an abortion in terms of what you thought your dreams were.
when was the last time you felt like you are a man you know the kind of person who does what he wants, has a spine and controls his own life
think about that
>when was the last time you felt like you are a man
What the fuck does that even mean? Like, literally right now.
Being a man doesn't mean anything, though. Nobody cares if you're a man.
Whooptie-fucking-doo; we got a man here, better go and make special preparations for his manhood.
Like, grow the fuck up, man.
If you really had a spine, then you wouldn't worry about this question.
Think about that.
Even moreso - consider this:
Your parents, unless you were one of those "surprise babies" - and even if you were, probably, because people tend to retcon their intentions - believed that you would have a better life than they did.
I mean, they'd probably be willing to die knowing that you had a better life than them, and you can't manage to tell them that it was better, because right now it's like really shitty and nothing you would have asked for if you had to ask for life like it wasn't just bestowed awkwardly upon you like some sort of dressing-room accident.
But at some point, it'll be awesome.
You might have to die a million times before it is.
That's what sucks about life.
They knew it when they had you, though.
That's sort of what's funny about it.
Like, did you really think that your fat uncle had that much to say about anything?
I mean, the dude had a shitty life, so give him his grievance, but in terms of what matters, it's not exactly headline news.
>should I just ride this out Yes, and stop posting. You're not even look for advice at this point. Go somewhere else to vent.
he's obviously a ledditor, probably got canned from his hugbox
>You're not even look for advice at this point
Um... can we stop and talk about this?
I mean, I can appreciate what you're trying to say, but like, there comes some point where you just stop making sense.
"You're not even look for advice at this point" might be one of those.
I don't know what it means. Maybe you do. Maybe everybody does.
But that has got to be one of the most crazy things I've ever heard, and I fucking love it.
You're not even look for advice at this point.
It's like sharp, like if someone who had a shit to give about what I thought were to somehow stab me in the leg.
What a tragedy that would be; someone not liking what I said about something; oh my god, aren't all the the god-lilies floating in mourning of such a tragedy.
Yeah, I got canned from my hugbox.
Could you go ahead and explain what the fuck that means for the rest of basically all of humanity who has no idea what the fuck you're talking about, you fucking sperg?
That would be really helpful, kthks.
Start making sense or nobody can help you. We get that you feel sorry for yourself and you are too drunk to tell a story so sleep it off and come back when you can write a sentence that tells us something which we then can turn into advice you can follow.
I mean, "start making sense" is is a pretty strong opener.
What makes sense to you?
Is it something that you want to believe makes a difference?
Lol. Who the fuck can help me?
You're so full of yourself that you think you can tell me I cant' write a sentence that tells "us" something.
Well, this does, bitch.
That's a fucking sentence, lol.
What kind of advice are you looking for?
How about you just give me enough money to do everything I want, lol.
And that's when I died.
1. Go to AA 2. Get out of that house and find a place of your own. 3. Get professional help - not longterm analysis but band-aid therapy, to get you through this crisis and help you start the process of building yourself up again.
spineless cowards like you deserve everything they get
>bohoo i married a whore and she is a whore!
So who cares, lol. You're a piece of shit if you think anything else and now I've said it.
>Like if someone who had a shit to give about what I thought were to somehow stab me in the leg I get that you're just trying to get a response out of people, but you're nearly insufferable. Feels like you don't want help, you just want someone to listen.
>CBT Cock and ball torture, nice
This is a good and interesting thread, OP is like a professor that went poly and then his wife cucked him so he started dating a student who is also poly and cucked him. Why he cannot afford a second lease, nor realize that you can really break a lease by giving up your security deposit is strange to me. There must be more to this story
Sounds like you’re coming down, try this. Put up the alcohol, and get some some other drugs. While you’re out doing that, find another girl, one you think would match the girls boyfriend, and bring her home. The problem is that 2 is company and 3 is a crowd, and homeboy probably feels a little awkward since the place is in your name. Your only thinking about yourself here, that’s selfish. Go find somebody cute for him (and you) to talk to, it’s only fair.