Should I Live With Her?

person giving keys on man
Caveat Emptor: Let the Buyer Beware.

A good friend of mine reached out to me just a few days ago. He told me that he and his girlfriend had just broken up. From what he told me, they had been together for awhile. A year or so from what I gather.

They had been living together for a period of time and had just decided on getting a place together, a place that was larger and better than where they had been currently living. Something that they could call their own. They would have moved in on February 1st of this year. But not now. Now that she decided to end it.

I’m sure he’s wondering about the “what’s” and the “why’s” of their break up. I would, and I did when my relationship ended a couple of months ago. I wondered why we broke up. I wondered what I could have done better. I still wonder from time to time about those things.

I’m sure that she gave him some sort of answer as to why they broke up. Maybe it was something similar to what I was given when my ex broke up with me. Maybe it was his age. Maybe it was something about his diet, his health. Maybe it was his politics. Maybe it was all of these things or none of them at all. Maybe it was something else entirely.

The truth of it all, the real fucking nut crushing, hard core, in your face truth is, it doesn’t matter why she left. It doesn’t matter what reason she gave. It doesn’t matter what he thinks he may or may not need to change for a future relationship if he decides to get in another one.

She left because she could. She left because she wanted to. She left because “reasons.” Reasons are just rationalizations and excuses at the end of the day. They don’t really matter. They don’t change anything. In the end, she left because that was what she wanted to do.

I have to remind myself of this sometimes. My ex ultimately left because she wanted to. She didn’t want to be with me anymore. That’s the beginning, middle, and end of it. She didn’t want to do it anymore. And that’s that. I don’t say that out of misery. I don’t say that to garner sympathy. I don’t pity myself. It is just reality. The only reality that matters. She left because she wanted to.

You Men reading this, I want you to understand this:

She left because she could. She left because she wanted to. That’s all that matters. Everything else is just rationalizations piled on bullshit piled on excuses.

She left because she could. She left because she wanted to.

This is the reason that she left. She may tell you a variety of reasons that she left, or not. She could say shit like, “you are too fat.” “You are too domineering.” “You are too angry, too disagreeable, too cold and you shut me out, etc.” None of this changes anything. And it won’t bring her back if you change it. She left because she could.

So your challenge now is to pick up the pieces and move on. To start over. Learn from it and move on. Do shit differently, but move on.

Which brings me to the subject line:

“Should I live with her?”

If you are under the age of 30, the short answer is no. You haven’t established yourself yet. If you are in your career, it’s either just starting, or it’s just starting to take off.

I’ve witnessed many Men, young and old, move a woman in with them only to be bankrupt and living either with their parents or living in a shit-hole a few years later when the relationship went south.

One of the biggest mistakes you can make is to get a lease or a mortgage that you cannot afford on your own and then entrust this other party, your woman, to carry half of the financial responsibility of this arrangement. What are you going to do if the relationship grenades? You either break the lease and take a hit on your credit and then you can’t get a house down the road, you break the lease and can’t get into something else that is decent, so you end up living in a shit-hole, or you may get “lucky” and be able to move back in with your family, or you end up having to get roommates to pay the bills. And beggars can’t be choosers at that time. Have you seen the majority of people that are “roommates?” Flighty, flakes, and fuck offs for the most part. Who wants or needs the drama? Chasing them down to collect their part of the rent. Going after them because they ate your shit. Confronting them on the fact that they are complete pigs and don’t clean up after themselves. No thank you, I’ll pass.

I own my own home. I’ve lived in it for fifteen years. My house has seen quite a few women come through its doors, including an ex-wife and now an ex-girlfriend. In all cases whether there has been another party living under my roof or not, I can pay the mortgage and all of my other bills. I’m not in danger of losing my home.

I can’t stand the idea of having roommates unless they are women and I’m sleeping with them. Too many flakes, dipshits, and deadbeats in the world. I don’t need or want that drama. So I saved up quite a bit of money when I was younger and started thinking long game. I found something that I could afford on my own. That way I wouldn’t be financially impacted in the event that a significant other and I decided to part ways.

You Men reading this and thinking of moving in with a woman, whether you marry her or not, need to keep this in mind:

If you can’t afford the lease, the rent, or the mortgage on your own, you don’t do the lease or get the mortgage. You don’t get a place together. You may move her into your place if you have the space and can afford to make that move, but don’t get a place that requires both of you to put up the money. You can avoid a lot of headaches and heartaches by doing this.

It will require you thinking in long game terms. That means living within your means. Spending less that you earn. Reducing or eliminating as much outstanding debt that you have. That means you may be making certain sacrifices. You may not be eating out as much. You may be living with your folks for a while longer. You will have to delay your gratification.

Moving her into a place that is in your name means it’s yours. She will have to be the one to find somewhere to live if the relationship ends, not you. Moving sucks. I’ve done it enough in the past and I’ve helped others do it many times over the years. That’s why I’ve lived where I have for as long as I have. That, and it’s a decent area. It’s also close to my work, so my commute is only 10 minutes.

I planned all of those things long before I met my ex-wife or my ex-girlfriend. That’s also how I survived the housing recession back in 2008. I only borrowed what I could afford to pay back and I lived within my means. I was never in danger of losing my home back then, and I’m not in any danger of losing it now. I’m definitely not going to lose it over some woman because we broke up.

If you can’t afford the place by yourself on your own, don’t get into that place. Period. Don’t move her in to help with the bills because you can’t afford those bills on your own. Don’t move her in so that you have “pussy on tap.”

The best, most intense, and most frequent sex I ever had, with any woman, was before I moved her in.

Familiarity does breed contempt. Or at least a degree of comfort and laziness. And the sex can quickly decline in frequency and intensity from there. Have slumber parties, for sure. But think twice before your move her in.

And never, ever move in to her place. Her furniture and decorations will already be in place. You will be second place to her stuff. You will literally be moving into a “man cave” from the word go. You will be the one out on your ass if the relationship implodes. You’ll be the one figuring out where you are going to sleep the night it ends. You’ll be the one having to pack your shit up and move on a cold winter day.

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You Don’t Really Know Her, And You Never Will.

afterglow backlit bokeh dark

Here’s another truth that I’ve had to swallow that has been a bitter pill:

You can be with someone for a long time, months, years, even decades, and you will never really know them.

You will think that you know them, and I’m sure that is part of the idealism that lives inside of Men. You think you know your wife, your girlfriend, your significant other, whatever title, name or term of affection that you want to give her or call her.

But you will never really know her. Not truly.

Swallow that pill. Choke it down.

You will never really know her.

In all fairness, she will probably never really know you either. But if you are like most Men out there, you will take many opportunities to show her who you are, to invite her into your world and to get to know you better. To know who you really are.

Do not expect the same courtesy in return. She will always hold something back. I’m not saying this from a place of anger or bitterness, I’m just speaking from my own personal experience.

After every relationship I’ve had that has ended, I end up seeing more of who that woman really was.

Sometimes it’s not pretty. Sometimes it’s okay. Either way it is what it is.

I wrote a while back about a bitter red pill that I had to swallow. Check it out if you haven’t already. It’s a good place to start. This one would be the next one that I have encountered that has been really hard to get down my throat.

I don’t blame the women that have been in my life and are now gone for this lack of knowing them. It’s not their fault for the most part. It’s mine.

Goddamn, unplugging is a bitch. You go along, thinking you’ve unplugged and then something hits you. Sometimes it even blind sides you. That’s where you realize that you haven’t unplugged as much as you thought you had. That’s when you realize you are still a long way off and that you still have a lot of work to do.

Rollo Tomassi wrote about this to a degree a few years ago in an article that he called, “Kill The Beta.” I imagine to some degree this was what he was talking about.

I don’t know why this one is bothering me so bad right now, except that it shatters an illusion that I once had and cherished. That illusion was that I knew the woman I was with, that I really knew her.

Knowing now that I didn’t really know her, it’s sad to me. It’s sad because now I know more about her and what she is actually capable of. Which means that she is truly capable of anything.

In the past if you asked me if she was capable of “X,” I would have told you no way, not in a million years.

Now if you asked me if she was or is capable of “X,” I would have to say that “X” is totally possible. She could do it. Doesn’t mean she would, but she could.

That opens up a whole world of uncertainty for me. That uncertainty makes me uncomfortable. If she is capable of say, lying, cheating, deceiving, stealing, and even taking a life, it means that I don’t really know her and I cannot trust her.

I take that back. I can trust her to be her. Someone who is capable of anything. Even theft and murder.

The question that keeps haunting me is this:

Knowing that a woman is truly capable of anything and could turn on you for no reason at all, how do you trust them? How can you live with them? How can you spend time, any significant amount of time with them?

I don’t want to go through the rest of my life not being able to trust a woman. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life realizing that a woman is truly capable of anything and everything.

I don’t want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder and sleeping with one eye open, wondering when, not if, she’s going to go feral on me and pull whatever shit she’s going to pull.

How do you overcome that? Or do you?

Is it simply throwing your hands up in the air and giving up? Is it submitting to the fact that All Women Are Like That? How can you be with someone that you can’t trust? Or that you can trust that she will do what she’s going to do and that she will go feral at some point and betray your trust, betray you?

I can already hear some women that might read this saying, “Not all women are like that!” To which I would answer them, “Prove it. Your words don’t count for shit with me. You’re going to have to show me that I can trust you, your words don’t count.”

I understand why some Men decide to go MGTOW now. It makes more sense. Sometimes it seems to me that it would be a much easier life not dealing with women. If I want female companionship I can always hire a professional and be done with it. At least with her, I know what I’m paying for and what I’m getting. I can see why some guys do this.

Maybe I’m just zeroed out emotionally at this point when it comes to the idea of dating and dealing with women. Right now I don’t feel like it’s worth the hassle to get to know someone only to know that I’ll never really know them and that I can only trust them about as far as I can throw them. It sucks knowing that the only thing I know for certain is that I can trust her to be her and that means that I can trust that she is capable of anything at any time. I can trust that she can go feral at any point for any reason or no reason whatsoever.

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No Shortcuts

person using macbook pro on brown wooden desk

I’m going to cut to the chase today guys.

There’s no shortcuts to get what you want. You have to do the fucking work.

Anything else is just an excuse to not do the work.

You’re out of shape and fat? Your fault. Do the work. How did you get that way? By not doing the work. Getting out of shape and being fat wasn’t an overnight phenomenon. You didn’t wake up yesterday or today and you were suddenly fat. No. You spent years getting there.

It’s going to take some fucking time to get your ass into shape. Do the work. As Rich Cooper would say, “Pick up heavy shit and put it down.” It’s that simple. But it may not be easy. Most of your life, you have had it on easy mode. That’s why you are fat and out of shape. That’s why you don’t have someone in your life to have sex with. That’s why you aren’t making the money you want. That’s why you don’t have the career, job, what-have-you that you want. Do the fucking work.

I saw a friend over the weekend, last time I saw her was at my Mom’s funeral. Before that, I don’t remember. It’s been at least a couple of years.

She’s a good person, don’t get me wrong, but man can she sing a tale of woe. She’s been singing it for over 20 fucking years.

I first met her back in high school, that’s how long I’ve known her. Most of my life now that I think about it. When she was younger, she had long blonde hair and she was petite with an ass that just went “pow!”

I miss the old her. She was hot. She was good looking. She had energy. Now days? Not so much.

She’s probably put on at least 50 pounds since back in the day. The Wall has not been too kind to her.

And she still keeps on singing that same old tired fucking song:

“I’m too tired to work out.”

“I need to go to the gym, but I don’t have enough time in my day.”

“I’m sick. I don’t feel good. I’ll go another time.”

Same old song and dance that she’s been singing and dancing to for over 20 years.

Her life is her fault. She doesn’t want to do the work. She wants to keep it on easy mode. She wants credit, but doesn’t want to actually earn it.

So she’s fat and has a bunch of health issues going on. And she’s 47 years old.

Bitch, you have the same amount of time in the day as everybody else. 24 hours.

How you spend it, how you use it, is up to you.

Do the work.

There are no shortcuts.

On another note, I’m getting ready to go to Portugal. I’m going to fly across the pond and see the sights. I’m looking forward to it.

I’m sure I’ll have things to talk about when I get back. Until then:

Do the fucking work.

 

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