I'm going to have some fun with this post I tell ya.
When I was young ( and before you think it--" old line from an old bloke"-- I know I know-- but wait) When I was young only a few years back, I thought I was king of the castle. Sure I had the usual insecurities but I had some solid high scores up on the board in the game of mating. Since my teenage days I had scored some mighty attractive women. On a scale of 10 most were well up in the high 8.5's. No fatties, no plain janes-- you know-- some fairly fab specimens amongst the female of the species. Most of my life I put this type of success down to luck mainly. I believed I was no hunk of the type women would cream themselves over. But I also believed I must have had something going for me or these pretty women would not have looked sideways at me. Anyway - you get the picture--- moving on--
And so it was that I fell into a sort of happy haze of security and confidence in my long marriage of 24 years. The attractive wife would never stray thought I, because I was confident in my merits- though as I said I didn't really know what they were. All would be good. And to compliment this illusion I had somehow managed to collect a quasi harem. I had three, count them, three extremely attractive blondes, yes blondes, as my closest mates ranging in age from mid 20's to mid- 40's. I remember sitting in a spa with my harem of 4 blondes ( my wife was blonde too) thinking who needs to be Hugh Hefner- I've got it all-- and I don't even have any money. They all love me for being just me. Surely you can see how a man would feel pretty damned confident in himself- couldn't ya?
Lets just cut to the near present- some 3 years ago. There used to be this little odd character who visited our place. I could always tell when he came in the front door because his smell arrived before he did. I mean it-- he was truly on the nose. He was an Israeli guy who spoke a sort of English---sort of. He had a really big nose and very deep set black eyes. Looked a bit like the biblical Satan if you can imagine. He had male pattern baldness but had held onto his long hair. So you see it-- a bald dome poking out of salt and pepper thin long hair- smelly unwashed long hair-- all this topped off with a woolly beard that could have had anything living in it alongside him except they probably had multiple legs and antenna. The way he acted though- he could have had these things -- he was sorta like a guru E.T. type. Think Rasputin the mad monk maybe?. He dressed in the gaudiest old clothes, bordering on rags and sometimes wore ladies woollens, sweaty old baseball hats with Makita emblazoned on them-- must have got them off the brotherhood bin or something. All in all- his physical appearance was not too good- I think you can gather that. And the cheese had certainly slipped off his cracker in the head stakes - he followed some nutty women who channelled a 35000 year old warrior- yep he was a trainwreck-- I reckon--- don't you?
Anyways-- he is the man who relieved me of my pretty little blonde wife of 24 years. Of all the men who visited this place- she chose him over me.
Yep. It's always the one you least expect.
Come to the present day:
I'm off blondes. My beautiful girlfriend of today is a raven haired beauty. I still have a few of the stragglers ( blondes) hanging around--- sort of-- dunno why but can't be too cosmetic here can I? They will drop off over time. One did shortly after the break up- she was the one who said if my wife left me she would always be there for me-- Ha Ha. Another one is on the way out as we are seeing less eye to eye as time goes on. In fact talking with her is becoming like a dance in a minefield- she is a real pain I tell ya. And the remaining one is a busy cougar. She gets those cubs too probably because she looks pretty good ( in the dim light of clubs that is).
But just where am I going with this expose?
Well I was thinking today. I was handed the biggest put down a person can get. You can't imagine worse. Dumped and dumped for a troll. I survived-- ego intact. How? That is a whole other story. Then I thought about those people I know who spend their whole time protecting themselves from such a put down. There are many of them. They go to all extreme measures to protect themselves. Their fragile egos are constantly in need of a boost and I am usually the one delivering it. They are so precious you see. They are so beautiful-- aren't they? They are so sensitive. they are so depressed. Don't hurt them they simply can't take it. They whinge and whine and constantly fish for compliments and support. Life is too hard for them. More so for them than for anyone else they keep telling me. They are really struggling just to cope. They are really really on the edge- so don't push them----- And never--- never ever---never never never NEVER--- hand them a put down--- they just can't take it.
A good put down is the very thing they need. It would get them over their fear. They need to face it. I have never felt clearer or better since I had my grand put down.
But you can talk to these bleating bleeding hearts till the cows come home--- they will still spend their whole time in self preservation mode. Wimps!!!! Bloody self absorbed wimps!!! God help them when they are old and ugly-- I won't.