“Don’t consider this a divorce; consider this a funeral.” – Rob Says
Ran across this graphic while replying to @robsays_’s newsletter, and that, along with what he had to say about “helping women” out. Short summary if you haven’t subscribed to it: don’t help women improve; she’ll take those improvements to another guy. The following is a message sent to the late Bowl Of Chaos. No, this does not paint me in a good light, and it may make you think less of me. That’s O.K. Though some of what I share with you may sound boastful and nigh unbelievable, I share what I share because it is the truth and it may help out someone that comes across what I have to say. This is no different, even though it shows my own foolish actions and the consequences that followed; the goal is to be open not just with my accomplishments but my failures as well, so you may be the wise man and learn from other’s mistakes, including mine. Hopefully this helps you not do what I did:
“Ever give a girl such a good time in bed she wanted to write you a song afterward?”
“I’ve thought about it,and decided you can keep the air mattress. It’s a top of the line one I got when the Hot Russian Ex and I moved into this place a few years back to get us by until I could get us an actual bed, at least at the time I bought it. And honestly, you’ve earned it: you not only gifted me but brought over the beer fridge I have to this day; thanks again so much. Funny enough, my new device just arrived to replace this one, which is on it’s last legs as far as operability goes: has been a real pain in the ass to use lately. Somber as it is, rather fitting that this will be the last message I send from this device.
“So was I.”
Not gonna lie: I miss Bowl Of Chaos. She was great from the get go: we spent plenty of time just talking and getting to know each other before we got into bed together, much like the religious folk say you should do before you get married to see if you have more in common than wanting to get in each other’s pants. And get along we did: we had more in common than either of us thought we did. Nutrition, relationships, many interests that go beyond the scope of this essay; suffice it to say we were more than compatible. We also went through quite a bit together: trading info back and forth, your ex tracking you down to my place through your phone then pulling my number off of yours, your entire family hating my guts, coming to your rescue when even your “friends” wouldn’t, making time for each other with wildly different work schedules, being there for you through several tragic and traumatizing events; the list goes on, and some would’ve broken a lesser couple, but somehow we endured. This, among other things, is why it was so confusing to me why you essentially broke things off a few months back, even though for a while you kept in touch as no nothing had changed. It is what I have learned since then that explains what happened, though given I am writing this, I learned far too late.
“She wrote that unsolicited.”
A long time ago, during dinner at my folks’ place, I was making the case that men and women were equal. My mom quickly said “that’s your first mistake.” Didn’t know what she meant at the time, but after all these years I’ve been forced to concede that she was right: men and women aren’t equal. And in no other category is this true than in romance: I’ve said before that men love externally (meaning objects like cars, property and beautiful women), while women love internally (meaning things that go or come from inside them like their partners and children). But it goes deeper than that. While men can objectively love something or someone, women mold themselves to men they truly fall in love with: emotionally, physically, biologically, almost symbiotic like. She, in effect, becomes a new person, different from the one she was before, one whose primary purpose in life is to please and support her man and raise his children. “You were my everything.” That statement, like many others, didn’t come from nowhere: you had truly pair bonded with me. I truly was your everything, and you gave all you had to me. And for my part, I did everything I could to keep us together. Everything I did, from keeping her at arms length for a while, to not proclaiming her as exclusively mine, was to no do what torpedoed my last relationship. I really believed we had something special, and sought to preserve it as best I could.
Was. Were. Gave. Had. It’s all past tense now. It’s past tense because the person known as Bowl Of Chaos is dead. And I killed her. Just like Hot Russian Ex, her blood is on my hands.
“Exactly one year ago from the above message. Crazy timing we always had together.”
When women pair with you, bond, commit, fall in love, whatever you want to call it, they truly give themselves over to their man: their will, their preferences (for the most part), and their agency. It’s no mistake that women that are infatuated with a man will totally be interested in the same things he’s in, or when asked where they want to eat will respond “I don’t know, what do you want?”. Crude examples, but true nonetheless: women are biologically programmed to be dependent and supportive to men. Doesn’t make women worse than men, it just makes them women. It’s that truth that I rejected for a long time, to both my own detriment and my partners’ demise. In trying to treat both Hot Russian Ex and Bowl Of Chaos as equal, I was giving them back their agency as they were trying to give it to me, helped give them direction and autonomy when they looked to me to provide them. That behavior on my part, though it helped them physically and financially, is toxic to women, and if you don’t catch on to it in time, it will destroy any relationship, killing her in the process. And that’s what happened here: it poisoned the bond between us: slowly, surely, and ultimately, fatally. The body lives on, and the core characteristics of the woman remains, but the person she was with him has perished, leaving her a new, broken woman, who will survive as best she can, until she finds a new man to lead and provide for her, if she even still has the ability to pair bond again.
“Don’t think she has much of a chance after this.”
That last part is very important for women to hear, if they are smart enough to listen: it’s not like women forget relationships of that magnitude, as that was one of if not the most important phases of their lives. It’s why 1. Just speaking physically, but given we’re talking women here emotions and biology are intertwined, she’ll never forget the moments where she was best laid, particularly if they felt they might be conceiving: side track just to explain something quickly, it’s why Bowl Of Chaos had that particular kind of sex with me the morning after she saw me eyeing Oregonian Fire Bender Christmas night at Liberal Alpaca Wrangler’s house; even though her frontal cortex knew I was shooting blanks, her psychology was trying to get her body pregnant. Even if another guy comes close (no pun intended), that memory will always come back. It’s why, to explain a few things: a woman’s called you by another man’s name while in the throes of passion, she’s cold at best and repulsed at worst by anything you do after she breaks things off (no, I don’t expect Chaos to read this or the books I got her for her birthday: one was Curse Of The High IQ by @clareyaaron, the other was School Of Errors by @safetyPhD), (one reason why) women cheat, and related to that, why she’ll leave if a better prospect comes along. Again, this isn’t to demean women or Bowl Of Chaos: it was a vital survival habit for them back in the day, and particularly if she has children to provide for, a survival method for them.
“Body pic she sent me after seeing my phone has pictures of models on it. She sent plenty of other pics, which I will not share for obvious reasons.”
To bring it back to Bowl Of Chaos, the last time she came over was before she took her latest gig at a pot shop on her reservation, the best paying and easiest job she’s had by far, and one that had a better schedule for us to see each other to boot. Though we did talk and even saw each other for a while, she sealed up her vagina since then, and eventually said it was over: the body was warm, but the soul had since moved on, something I sensed when we kissed the last time I saw her. Did she find a better provider? Whether another penis is involved is debatable, as is if she found a group of work friends that provided “emotional support” and/or told her she “could do better” than what we had at the time, a common lie women tell other women. It should be noted that she led me on with being ambiguous about coming over on her birthday (I had presents wrapped and everything, likely the only person that had done so for her in years, another mistake), while she went and partied with her friends. However, it can be said that with said employment, along with the perks of cheap weed (why else would she rack up over $100 dollars even with a discount), not only provide better financially, but with cheap dope at hand help her with the anxiety issues she relied on me previously to help with, without having to put out for it; though I was the best she ever had and was in fact the one to give her her first orgasm through intercourse, and she enjoyed every moment of it and would seek it out, it is female nature to see sex as their physical currency, and if they can get the same benefit without having to fuck, they’ll take it. Don’t believe me? Look at the welfare state. Chaos is on it (side note, it also is no mistake that she divorced her ex after she got tribal benefits and housing), as is both her and my former communities. In short, it is after she found better security that she left shore, never to return.
“Body Comparison pic of Paige “Peanut” Michael, PeanutPhysique.com”
It’s a damn shame, for her, but also for me as well. Just like with Hot Russian Ex, there were so many things I had planned for us, things I highly doubt she would get from other guys, especially now. Several restaurants and cider houses I wanted to take her to (she loved ciders), one of which was in walking distance and has since closed. Trips to places she has never been and are stunning to behold, including an island. Things I wanted to teach her. Games I wanted to play together. Wanted to help her pick out and learn to maintain a car. Hell, through one of my last diets I ended up losing abdominal fat I wasn’t aware I even had, which has the benefit of giving me almost an extra inch downstairs: after already being her best lover, how do you think she would’ve taken that? Just using Hot Russian Ex as a proxy, she was still physically into me even on her way out the door; I’m still sure she remembers the final 2 orgasms I gave her before she left (in fairness, I still remember the final 2 she gave me. Damn that woman was the best.) Again, another mistake. Sad as it may be, those plans will never happen, because Bowl Of Chaos is no more. Who I’ve been talking to since I don’t know. Chaos would’ve never, for instance, accused me of trying to emotionally manipulate her, lead me on about being together knowing full well she wasn’t coming over, receiving chocolates for Christmas without even saying she got them, or any of the other inexcusable behavior that has since taken place. But that’s not who was on the other line. Not the woman I cared for anyway.
“You were my everything.”
I guess, to wrap this all up, is to say a couple of things. 1. I’m sorry. You went away because of my actions, mistakes I learned far too late. I did everything I could to help you become a better you, and killed you in the process. Whether whoever this reaches will understand that I don’t know, and frankly can’t care. 2. If you did read this far, do learn from all of this, and try not to make the mistakes I did. Regretful as it may be, it’s too late for me, and too late for her. Speaking of regretful, 3. They won. Your ex, the one that that tracked you down to my place and called my phone after hearing me please you in the way he never could through the open window? Your family that hated me for reasons including me helping you see their own manipulations and fighting back against it? Your friends that would’ve left you for dead at a remote bar after being drugged? They got what they wanted. We’re broken up, not even on speaking terms anymore. And that’s because you’ve passed on. It’s a fact that has been hard to accept, but accept it I have to nonetheless. You are no more, and you’re not coming back.
“Couldn’t resist sending her this!”
Not all is dark however: I will still have plenty of memories of her that I’ll cherish until my dying day. Making her laugh uncontrollably with random jokes I would come up with. Her reading my own articles back to me while I was on the way to work, the writing of which also brought you to tears of laughter (YOU FED RATS NOTHING BUT JERKY: WHAT DID YOU THINK WAS GONNA HAPPEN!?). Her, naked on my couch riffing on her guitar after a night at the bar. Just sitting in her car, talking until the sun came up. Fooling around in the park, again until sunrise. Finally getting busy in her back seat behind a 24 hour taco shop before helping her get off, before the cops came to check on us (still don’t regret waving at the old bat that called them). For that matter, just the sheer matter of mind blowing sex we had that often had her so disoriented she could barely walk to the bathroom (leading to my “hallway” being named “Bermuda’s Triangle”). In particular, the time her mom was in a parking lot outside and I pulled her back in bed to finish us both off, where she went from reasonable protest that her mom was waiting on her to her screaming “right there, don’t stop!”; didn’t even have tine to clean up, meaning I sent her home with mommy and back to her ex with a scrambled head, shaking legs and full of jizz (Geez, I wonder why they don’t like me….). Just being there for her when she needed someone that cared, bringing her from freaking out to smiling again; again, might have been a mistake on my part, but I’m not gonna lie: it makes me feel good as well helping someone I care about feel better when they’re down. And though whoever I am sending this to and is possibly reading this is someone else entirely, and like my other exes has since chopped off her hair, gained weight and likely has a tattoo now, I’ll always have the experience of being with the hottest native on the reservation, the best looking she was at the time and ever will, the most hot and ready, the most adventurous, the most caring, the most spontaneous and fun, and most thoughtful among other things; truly, the best the PNW had to offer. Though she’s gone now, she will live on on this mind, in memoriam.
Goodbye, Bowl Of Chaos. You were loved, are gone, but not forgotten.
“You don’t have to say anything.”
Farewell.
– Bacon <3
#143 #RIP”
Freedom, an original song by Jordan-Kelly:
Decide, an original song by Jordan-Kelly:
Together With You, an original song by Jordan-Kelly:
Running: an original song by Jordan-Kelly:
Fare Thee Well-Stone Temple Pilots: