From the original article on November 14, 2012. Author: Chateau Heartiste.
Let’s compare two men.
Man 1 abjures marriage. He grows older moving from one long term relationship to another, experiencing relative instability in his love life but also the thrill of the hunt and the popping freshness of pussy varietals. As he ages, the number of women who are willing to abide his no-marriage clause shrinks, as does the youthful quality of the women. But he partly compensates for this inevitability with tight game and a charming, devil-may-care attitude, which allows him to punch above his weight well into his dotage. He has no heirs that he knows of, and for some reason this does not bother him as much as people tell him it should, but the fact that he is not bothered does bother him. He wonders, often now that the years ahead of him are far fewer than the years behind him, if one of those women he loved was one to hold to the exclusion of all others. At the end, he wheezes his last with memories of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of women — of their loving ministrations and tender caresses and fleeting intimacies between window blind shafts of sunlight — dancing through his head, and in the company of a nebulous regret that refuses to dislodge.
Man 2 abjures bachelorhood. He marries at 30 after a trio of lukewarm short term relationships, and because he is a good man (or, more likely, because he is a man of middling status and dull personality with limited options in the sexual market which alleviates any threats of temptation against his virtue) he never cheats and puts his heart into pleasing his wife, who, because of her biology, inexorably grows less interested in sex with him, as her own attractiveness subsides in accord with her fattening waistline. He is healthy and content, all things considered, and he grows old fondly remembering his wife as she was many years ago, sexy and slender and whimsical, while the allure of her pussy — the only pussy he has seen and felt in twenty years — gradually diminishes, until the time comes he would rather caress pretty strangers with his eyes than caress his wife with his hands. He has two children, of whom he is very proud and loves very much, but still their existence does not relieve the gnawing that grips him in the chest when he thinks of love, and desire, that left him long ago. At the end, he wheezes his last in the company of his old wife’s tears and clouded eyes, and he drifts off to forever with memories he wished he had, and memories so distant they have receded to mere imagination.
Now... ask yourself: Which of these two men had it better?
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