The Archwinger Series: What do you do when a girl cries?
How do the rest of you guys deal with crying?
Besides just kicking the girl to the curb
A great starting point from an anecdote from a fellow Marriedredpill vet. I think he’s gone forever now, so I want to keep his stuff around. First post of the Archwinger Series:
I wake up every morning at 5:AM to leave the apartment and drive to the gym, missing traffic and getting in a few sets before work. I'm tough to get along with if I don't get my workout in. Last night the weather was bad, and it’s still raining this morning. She is next to me, asking me to please not leave because she’s worried about me.
"It’s so dark outside, she says "You're Going to drive into high water and die; there was a story about someone who did that on the news last night."
A normal guy would probably give into that, but my early morning waking up and working out has been her longstanding issue. She’s been trying to get me to spend less time at the gym since the day we met and secretly hopes I’ll give up working out entirely. Partially because she’s kind of heavy and has esteem issues, partially because I probably make her feel guilty, partially because my waking up early makes her “too tired” to work, definitely too tired to work out herself. Partially because it’s a power and control thing.
So I tell her that I’ll be fine and proceed to pack my stuff to leave. That’s when the tears start. Shaming and guilting me didn’t work, so she moved on to the manipulation. I don’t care about her any more, she says. I don’t care about her feelings. I’m selfish and can’t skip one workout, for her. I, of course, mention that I can think of one really great way she could keep me around for another hour, and that just makes her cry more because I’m “joking” about her feelings. I was serious, but okay.
So screw it, I get my stuff, tell her once more that there’s nothing to worry about – I commute to and from work in bad weather all the time -- and head out, leaving her crying on the bed. Then, fuck all, it’s cold and rainy out, and I can’t get that nagging picture of her crying into the pillow out of my head, so I go back inside. Amateur mistake, letting crying work.
I could see it visibly. All of the attraction and all of the respect she had for me just draining out of her face as soon as she saw me back in the bedroom. It was too late. There was no fixing this.
She’s not happy to see me. She’s still crying. She’s not grateful, of course, because her precious feelings are so terribly hurt and I’m still so terribly selfish and she never should have even had to ask me to stay. If I were a better man, she wouldn’t have had to ask me!
The whole time I’m home, she keeps accusing me of being mad at her. I’m fine. I’m eating breakfast. I’m great. It’s her that’s mad, but she can’t quite put her finger on why. She got exactly what she wanted, but she’s so filled with subconscious contempt and disrespect, and doesn’t understand what she’s feeling or why, so she assumes that she’s picking up on me being angry and accuses me of being pissy.
It’s pretty clear where I screwed this one up, but maybe someone out there can learn from the above.