The beginning is always a good place to start right? I don’t know that I will consistently stay chronological in writing about this, but some back story is called for. I’ll start by saying I didn’t consider myself in the game when this all began. I liked to say I kept one foot in, but mostly sat on the bench and coached the starters. Call it the mentality of a caged wolf.
Perhaps that’s something worth discussing briefly as well, or maybe even more later. Being a married man you end up being around a lot of other married men, just how it happens. Separate into your own herd, right? Or so we’re told it should be. The problem is herds are for sheep and not all men are so. Not even the married ones. Actually upon thinking about this a little, I will definitely be writing out some thoughts about it.
Back on track. On the bench, and all that. Well what could be seen as a problem with that mentality is that even if you’re on the bench you still are always thinking about the game. It’s not necessarily bad for a marriage; it keeps a man aware of attraction and I think much of what Athol talks about could apply if you’re only talking theoretical up until the point that the marriage is truly over.
I may have only been dimly or subconsciously aware of the line I was crossing. No, shit, fuck that. I fully fucking knew what I was doing. Not the full force of what the small decisions I was making would lead to, but I saw her, I knew what I wanted, and I put myself in a better position to have it. Naturally I added her on Facebook.
Let me just say now that this was before I knew “game principles” as taught around the ‘sphere. I acted strategically as seemed best at any given time, and generally this always worked for me. However any sort of strategy I may have thought to use in this situation went clearly out the window as we became more wrapped up in each other.
Marriages naturally have their ups and downs. Some of the downs last a long time, and no matter what you do, how good of a captain you are, some things you truly have no control over. The emotional disconnect that can occur in those long marital depressions can easily be underestimated. As a married man (especially when still on the blue pill) you expect that connection to be a part of your life. My thirst for it was immense, but completely unknown to me until this point in my life.
After finding out her full name through somewhat dubious means (a bit stalker-ish, but legit), saying fuck it, and clicking that add friend button on Facebook I waited to see how my first gamble would pay off. The next day I received two notifications: one that she had accepted my request, and two a message from her. Progress already I thought. Except that message was a warning that she nearly ignored my request, but was going against her better judgement and accepting it. Narrow victory, but victory nonetheless. Fortune favors the bold, right?
Boldness I had, but now it was time to indulge the stalker in me. Time to browse the photos of course. It wasn’t long until I stumbled onto one that changed it all for me. A switch flipped in my brain that brought the desire to fuck her directly to the forefront. This wasn’t your typical look-at-me Facebook snapshot you’ve seen a thousand times, yet it wasn’t really inappropriate either. Obviously I can’t show you all, so you’ll have to let your imaginations do some work for you.
It wasn’t too long until we were talking. A lot. A hell of a fucking lot. It was the beginning of summer, and our conversations punctuate every memory of it. It would be easy to say we hadn’t done anything yet, but of course we had. The emotional infidelity came hard and fast, and we both knew the road we were running down. It’s truly your classic example. The talking, the finding ways to briefly see each other, the careful avoidance of actually touching one another. The buildup was intoxicating.
We hastened down this path, and knowing this I began to strategize how I would push things to a more physical level. Logistics are always important in the game, but when we’re talking affairs they are not only incredibly important, but also incredibly difficult. While I’m pondering this one morning I receive a message from her asking me to meet her out somewhere. A quick excuse and I’m out the door.
The tension was immediately apparent, and I knew this was another turning point. Whatever she had to tell me had to be significant, but I could never have predicted what this conversation held for me.