Well, anyway, here I am printing away while my wife is having high-school-calibre problems with her extramarital affairs. I’m trying to help her keep perspective, work through it, you know; trying to be encouraging. It’s something to do, anyway, while I keep that background process going that tries to figure out whether I’m depressed, whiny, something else, or any of the above, and what difference figuring it out might make. A least the sheets are running smoothly. Hey, I just realized that this sentence-based focus mode could be really useful for studying composition, style, etc. Okay I don’t really hate my job. I just hate the masses of loud kids, and the necessity to be constantly on top of things. On the whole, I actually like interacting with the kids. There’s just too much of a sense of doom all around. Why is that? I’m staring at her picture on my screen while she’s upstairs talking to him. “Do you need something?” she asked when I IMed. No, just saying hi. “Hi. Talk to you later. :-)” Why do I need this? I’ve mainly had two types of relationships with women. Each begins when a woman or girl selects me. If she’s slower, needier, or more submissive than I, then I learn how to manipulate her into pretending to dominate me so that I can enjoy narcissistic, self-serving sex with her. Eventually I get bored, but instead of making a clean break, I manipulate her into staying attached in case I get lonely or horny, while gravitating towards a relationship of my other type: with someone, often an ex-girlfriend, who is cleverer, more extroverted, and more convincing in the dominant role. Bursting at the loins, I tell myself I’m home. I apologize for coming too soon. I’m fine as long as she lets me win. I worship only those parts of her I can possess, and no more. Eventually, she figures out she’s being used, or blames herself for failing to be free, or simply gets bored and wants better sex. In any case, she either leaves or waits for me to throw a tantrum and do the leaving, usually with unconvincing finality. After all, she too might get lonely or horny. The two types differ mostly in the temperament of the woman; each involves profound misunderstanding or deception about trust and dominance. More to the point, they all involved my lack of respect for women. Like for instance, we were just IMing, and she suddenly disappeared. I’m already thinking he came online and said, “Stop talking to him.” And she of course without hesitation cut me off. Okay, this is maybe a bit of a shitty part. This kind of roller coaster, remember, is not just a fun thrill ride. Its peaks are terrifying and life-affirming, but its troughs are wretched and rain-soaked, depressing and gnawing. She’s withholding not merely sex, but affection. “Do you need something?” How many times am I going to hear that when I’m looking at her, wishing? “Did you want to say goodnight to them? Because we’re going to bed. Okay. Go. Oh, and if you’re still up, change out the laundry.” A microcosm of the sad, cut-off divorce, with minimal rights for sad-sack dad. Yes, still horny, but also pissed off, squirming, distracted, hollow, and sad. Is she pissed off at me? Merely irritated? Playing it up for my sake? (Doubt that last.) I know she’s going to skype with him tonight. Again. She reads screen after screen of his words. *I* was supposed to be the one with the words, god damn it. What the hell else do I have? He beat me in the one area I was supposed to be good in. Isn’t she even going to miss me, in bed without me? I mean, really? Ever? WTF.