I woke up late, its 11 am already. My chest is throbbing in pain, pain from the ribs I cracked in the martial arts fight a week back. I don't see sweetie at home, she must be off to work.

I freshen up, make myself a protein shake, light a cigarette and put on the Black Phillip show. I hear Patrice screaming "Bitch. I am better than you!". For the next hour, in my mind, women are hardly on a pedestal. I wish I could have that mindset all through the day, every single moment.

Its time to hit the gym to do some chest reconditioning work and heavy isolated leg work to stay in the game. I look athletic in my gym wear, but I still feeeel fat. I used to be fat. I look in the mirror and I give a sigh of relief. I am not fat. I am muscular.

On my way to the gym, I grab a coffee, her favorite one and surprise her at her office. I recently worked on being a charming man and realized that to be charming means to not try to be charming. Sweetie is excited and rushes down the floors to meet me. She calls it a cute-coffee-date. We banter. I make fun of her. I make her notice bird sounds in the neighborhood. I make her act like a little chirping bird. She looks happy, but something is off. I remember Dante Nero's words:"If you feel a tingling in the nuts, you are about to get kicked in the nuts". I stay stoic.

Its been quite a while I took her out. I plan for a movie night and a circus the next day. Something is still off.

She comes home. She wakes me up from my after-gym nap like I am a burden in her life. I wake up and pull her close to me. She has fresh lip-balm on her lips. Very weird and she is chewing gum like she just robbed a bank. I ask her about her evening lip balm, minor insecurity reeking out of my half built frame. And there it comes:
"I want a divorce". Bam!

I shrug an "ok".
She starts weeping and tells me how I don't care about her and tells me about all the ways I am wrong. She tells me how I am not putting in any effort to keep the relationship.
I tell her:"You just asked for a divorce. I give it to you. There is no discussion anymore."
She grabs her purse storms out of the house, weeping.

I start thinking about the last few months. Sex frequency had gone down like a bad performing stock. I started seeing the red flags. Her shaving right before business trips, long(er) office hours, office friends I had never met. I calm myself down. Even if she hasn't cheated yet, she is still crossing a boundary. I start scanning the house for stuff. I need to move out. I start packing.

45 mins later. Ring! She is back home. I let her enter while I continue to go about packing stuff.
And the blame game is back too. She blames me for letting her leave the house. In the past, I would run behind her. This time, I didn't.
I assert:"Sweetie. You leaving the house means you have another man waiting for you. What were you expecting from me?"
She has a look of shock on her face. She starts DEERing.
I ignore.

She wants emotional closure. She doesn't want to be an alpha widow, yet again. To get closure she wants you to act needy and helpless because that means her new boyfriend is better and she made the right choice. That's why she wants to talk, its her job to fuck you, emotionally and mentally. But as a man its my job to keep my pride.