Well, unfortunately I heard another story today. Dammit, guys. We’ve been through this before.
You promised. At one point in your life, you thought it was a keen idea to stand up and promise yourself to this person, in front of God and everybody. (And believe it or not, “I promised I wouldn’t” is sufficient reason not to cheat on her.)
Sure there are good reasons to get divorced. She runs around on you, or she’s got a secret drug habit, or she’s a Mafia princess, then well, you guys have got something to talk about, and you may ultimately be right to end the marriage.
But if she’s fundamentally the same person you married, then don’t give me any shit about she doesn’t understand me anymore, and I’ve met this other person who I think is my (gag) soulmate, and blah blah blah. Get your ass in there and talk to your wife, and if you’re just “bored” or whatever, then you buck up, you selfish son-of-a-bitch. Real men take an active interest in saving their marriages.
Oh, and a word about your children? If your marriage ends, they’ll never be the same. And I don’t mean they’ll go through a rough patch and you better get them some therapy; I mean they’ll never fucking be the same. All of that good stuff they have going on right now—you know, those great grades, that bounce, that giggly giddiness? Turn it off like a light switch, because they’ll crash when you rip their world apart.
And I’m not suggesting that you’re automatically sentencing them to an emotionally stunted adulthood, but I am asserting that they’ll carry scar tissue from it. We all accumulate such, but would you like their first significant dose of it to be because you wouldn’t keep your pants on? And at 10 years old? 8? 6? 4?
Make sure you think about that when you’re K-Ying your little trollop up, okay there, sport?
Is it worth it?
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