• Starter marriage
• The first time you marry is for love, the second time you marry is for money
Sit yourself down for five minutes and think about those two things. Let them sink in to your mind.
That done? Now let's examine these two statements closely. First up for consideration:
Starter marriage. So, this is like a trial. It's the first one, like a first car. Or better, a starter house. A first step on the housing ladder, a first step on the marriage ladder. "Starter" more than fucking implies that this isn't gonna last - it bald-faced says it. "In Mala Fide", in bad faith - a sadly defunct blog, though you can buy the book. The marriage contract is being entered in bad faith on the woman's part.
BONUS! She gets half of everything even if it was your work that paid for the house while she spent her money pampering herself or on expensive trips overseas.
SPECIAL BONUS! You keep paying her out of your income if the two of you had children. Or if she had a child to another guy - aka was a single mommy or got preggers to your best friend or her boss.
Starter marriage: a really sweet deal for the man.
Next up for consideration:
The first time you marry is for love, the second time you marry is for money. Now that the first marriage is gone, the second marriage is going to be to some rich and stupid motherfucker who will maintain her in comfort. Not content with stealing everything possible from her first hubby, she's taking as much as she can get from her second.
BONUS! She's had a bunch of money to waste for a few years "finding herself" (aka fucking as many men as possible) - now that is out of her system for the time being.
SPECIAL BONUS! "For the time being." She may try the process again. Or fuck around on you.
The first time you marry is for love, the second time you marry is for money: a really sweet deal for the man.
It's an interesting thing to look at relationships through crap-colored glasses. Like the star in the movie "They Live", it's both fascinating and appalling to see the truth. The feel of rubbernecking when you pass a car-crash.
Most women are a car-crash, waiting to happen or in the process of happening or in the aftermath.
If you shackle yourself to a car-crash, then I have zero pity for you. I will rubberneck as I drive past, or sip margaritas on the deck, or fly to interesting locations.
Enjoy the taste of poison. Remember, you willingly drank it when you decided to bind yourself in a contract with someone who didn't bind themselves - who entered it in bad faith.