The Far Right Report

Preserve Our European Heritage

Deconstructing Heart

Deconstructing Heart
 I have comfortably surpassed the legal age of being able to punch a girl in the face and get away with it, say for a beating, quite a while ago. I believe that age for me was ten, it’s since been reduced by three. Present day preteens might just be finishing up their first bid or maybe fresh out of rehab. In retrospect my utter disappointment for woman didn’t really begin until I reached my twenties. Up until that point I really believed all you had to do was find a woman that you were attracted to and fall in love. I was never interested at the prospect of being a pimp, which was admired by the cool chic’s.
 Although women frequently complain about what dogs men are, truth is the untrustworthy canine’s kept the most bitches (female dogs). Believe me, I was no swishy beta male, I give props to all the big dogs. Keeping a stable was just never my thing; maybe you’d say that was lazy. I oppose that theory; it’s much more work to devote yourself to one female. How so? Because they are mostly certifiable, you can never just live, there is always some crisis. IE: “Do you really love me?”
 “You want me to dress like that slut?”
“Why don’t you ask your little office whore to wash your clothes?”
I could literally fill the next ten pages with irrational demands and erroneous accusations, but I think you get it.
Why shouldn’t I have been so quick to be a love sick door mat for every shiny pair of heels every to demolish a human heart?
The last relationship I had the misery of surviving was indubitably more special than the ones prior. You heard of poor saps waking up in a tub full of ice, light one kidney? That was me, only there was no ice and she left an ugly cavernous whole in my chest. As a matter of fact when I came to she was still there. Even as she cleaned her crimson stained fingers, she screamed that I was the asshole!
Now most of my brothers in this manosphere remain unsympathetic to my emotional demolition, telling me I should have known better. (If I had a penny for every time I should have known better, I’d be drinkin’ Heineken and rubbing elbows with the guys from Duck Dynasty)
Yes, perhaps going into it, I may have overlooked some subtle signs of distress such as:
1.     The requirement for constant sedation on low end Psychotropic Pharmaceuticals.
2.     The whole ensuring of unconditional love, which usually followed or preceded some manipulative temper tantrum.
3.     Post tantrum sex which rendered me vulnerable to more life sucking demands.
4.     She told me to Face Book her after we initially met. Then when I reluctantly did, I discovered three thousand self shot pic’s of her in the profile. I guess what should have been the exclamation mark was they were all taken in self-consumed sexy mode. That’s taking yourself much too seriously.
It was shortly after that when I had to rationalize her spirit crushing demands. I fallaciously believed the sign of manhood was constant suffering for those you love, while managing a mandatory to smile.
Was I coerced into 86ing my friends, family and church fellowship? Maybe so but my reward was priceless. The privilege of hanging out with her friends exclusively, dancing my weekends away (sober no less!) at some run down dirty shack whose owners were characterized in the Deliverance. I can’t say the relationship wasn’t close to 50/50 however, half of the time she was in desperate need of control, the other 50% I was miserable. I can’t get it through my thick average white American male skull, that when a Westernized Woman says she loves you forever, you’d better realize forever is finite and will occur several times a decade during her existence.
The sad pathetic point remains that I knew the risk and still signed the waiver. The waiver read: Not responsible for any damages, enter at your own risk. Maybe that agonizing pain following her decision to quit me and get a new step dad for her son was self inflicted.
Now I am in the familiar position of stuffing the haggard remains of my trampled heart back into my chest. After ingesting the red pill I must make amends with my homies, I must collect any remnants of my dignity because unless I am ready to die, I must begin again. Getting your heart broken is inevitable, but maybe this time I will learn to be prepared. The hope still resides, however apprehensive it might be. I will find another woman who isn’t completely mentally inept, I’ll hold out for mildly so. Also as she tells me that I am the one, nobody has ever made her feel like this, I’ll remember by nobody she means nobody that would keep her.
 Peace, Russman