Sex and Marriage, what does it offer us as Men?

A group of suicidal and self distructive instincts specifically designed for evolutionary success. The species is all that counts, nothing about the individual satisfaction you so much dreamed of growing up. A male praying mantis without a head is done better for itself. The female has committed the daylight mortal act for all to see and the smaller head is rocking, at the very least .

We have been conned and what is worse is that it is our parents and loved ones at fault. They're continuing this culling with impunity with little or no remorse. 

It is that very honest (maybe not in retrospect) priest that you trusted with every nesting egg in your black book. He insisted his basket was sheltered by the wings of angels and you had every reason not to diversify then. 

The very Bible he read out loud suggests that you not get married. Marriage is only second best option for those hoping to cross the Pearly gates line, the Lord said. Direct from the source. How many more are going to be condemned to deppressed and suicidal states before the rout stops.

You are probably doing the same to your kids, irrespective of your failed hopes. You are going to say the same old tired verse ''get couried off by a brave and powerful saint to be married, have kids and live happily ever after'

They are going to follow your desperate path. Men are not born saints, neither are women. We are smothered into 'sainthood' screaming. Saints don't ride horses. You need a lot of tetosterone to ride a horse.

Nothing could be more far fetched in reality. I have kids as well and to wring them off Santa and ready to face the rapist next door is tough. How do they respect him and come out unscathed is a chess board with a Russian master on the opposing side. 

Saints like Mandela, mother Therresa and Gandhi have long known that marriage doesn't work, granted Mandela snagged. We probably should cut him more slack in view of the woman he had to satisfy after that lengthy prison stretch. 'I do' is the last thing you will do, as a person. 

Evolution went to an extent of even dropping your testosterone level to make sure you cannot blame hormones for being a rascal and expecting more than an ejaculate. It is you and solely you and no amount of medical investigation will reduce the smirk on the faces of judiciary panel charged with delivering your guilty verdict. Your mothering instincts needed for fatherhood are not compatible with interference from the testorone charged smaller head.

Wifes will go to an extent of waking you up to interrupt any happy dream, just to enslave you back into that 'if you won't clean the back yard, you will sleep on the couch' cage. Low testosterone has its brighter side women soon discovered, because suddenly the couch gives you the remote to watch sport and those hated late movies without the resultant priapism and the begging that follows. It takes away the only weapon she has to happily make you dance.

I don't particularly like Chris Rock, but most of his charm is saying what we can't say on a blog with the women lib brigade on watch duty at the risk of them having written proof. The fight about minimal panties worn by those you can only dream of in the privacy of a couch compared to that heavy duty knee grazer your mother doesn't wear anymore is a starting point. In that movie 'I love my wife' reality is laid bare. If pulling your mother's panties off your wife doesn't give you impotence, nothing ever will.

Is it possible that we still may find something other than altruism and doing right that one can add to the credit list of marriage. 'You don't have to go out looking for it,' we are told. You don't get it either if you still have a bone in your spine as you will soon find out after marriage. You will be guilty of something each and every day. That bed can only be a dream as it will be used as a carrot for eternity. Carrot that keeps moving.

 

'Who let the sun go down?' she will burst through the door with a finger wagging accusingly around the now sombre room. The husband immediately has to rise. It decreases the harshness of the inquiry on the kids. The guilty party is isolated and the sentence is known, case closed.

 

You will be guilty in the long run anyway therefore minimise the blood bath and accept your fate like a man, a couch man I meant. It might strengthen your resolve in afterlife.

When one eventually gets some holy spirit to hold her down for long enough to strip the years back, one gets accused of only satisfying thyself.

She missed her chances every time she sent you to the couch if you asked me, and anyway if it is that necessary to get something for herself, why use it as carrot. 

Carrots are only good for the donkeys pulling the carts. Mine is so far out in the distance I don't see it anymore. Maybe it's my vitamin deficient poor vision saving me from lifetime of slavery.  I am beginning to like it though. I could get used to cauliflower, or T bone who knows?

Shape your pouty self into the beautiful and once attractive specimen she or he was attracted to in the first place, maybe your negotiating terms might improve and the bedroom door open just a peep. 

In the meantime don't lie to your kids or anybody else about marriage and most importantly don't hold your breath.
Your waistline, your buffalo shape, your depression and low testosterone could do with all that pent up energy stores. Hit the treadmill. 

If biochemistry and physiology of health are the elements of every mix, then results are assured