This should be flagged as a rant/venting, but I cannot get the link to function in my browser.

TL;DR - I was a fool and got a woman pregnant 2 years ago, after she cheated on me. Now I am trapped by my own unwillingness to live apart from my child.

I realize this is a giant post, and I don't expect many of you to read and/or comment on this, nor do I anticipate a lot of "up" votes, but I need to get this off my chest. Hopefully it will serve as a cautionary tale for those of you that do decide to read it all, or even in part.

  • SKIP BACKGROUND if you don't care about my mental state going into this mess -

BACKGROUND: I was raised from before I can remember as a member of a fundamentalist Christian sect (which I now consider to be a cult, in retrospect). Sex was evil in any context other than marriage, and sometimes even within, depending on what you chose to do in the bedroom with your wife. Dating was extreme restricted; no going out without a chaperon, no physical intimacy, etc. If you did things "right" by doctrine, your wedding night would be your first time alone with your wife, and the first time you did anything other than kiss like others were watching. I may not have abided to this standard perfectly, but suffice to say I was a genuine virgin on my wedding night, at the age of 20-fucking-4 (this after several ball-blackening LTR's with other women, one of whom I had severe oneitis for long after our breakup when I was 19). HUGE mistake. First night, couldn't consummate the marriage (she was too tight and too nervous). For the next 2 years, it didn't ever get much better. She was uptight about everything, couldn't cum no matter what I did (and I did EVERYTHING that you could ever find recommended to fix this), refused to touch herself and try to resolve the issue by learning how on her own, even without me there to stress her out. She blamed all of this on me, and insisted that I wasn't trying hard enough, wasn't giving her enough time, etc. (this after I would eat her out for up to an hour at a time, with no result). She had been working when we first got married, at a high-paying Postal job, but injured her leg and was unable to continue without extreme pain. I "stepped up" and became the sole breadwinner for the family around 6 months into our 3 year relationship. I also ended up giving my in-laws a great deal of money to assist them, as they were terrible with money themselves and were constantly in a bind. Foolish, I know, but at the time I thought it was just the "right thing to do". While I worked every day, she stayed home and watched marathons of Dr. Who, Gilmore Girls, Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman, etc. From what I can tell, this is ALL she did. I can only recall a handful of times that I came home to a clean house or a fresh meal. 95% of the time I ended up either making or helping with dinner, cleaning the house, picking up food on my way home (which is fucking expensive), etc. We fought constantly. She later admitted to my face that she would force me to apologize for things that I hadn’t been responsible for, just to stay in control. I was the epitome of a beta-bucks bitch, and it was largely my fault.

Meanwhile, long-standing questions and doubts about my religion led me to lose all faith; I only stuck around because there was no alternative. If I voiced my thinking and left, I would be permanently disfellowshipped and shunned by my entire family and all my friends (I was raised to avoid any friendships outside of the religion to start with). However, my unhappiness with my "faith" and my marriage made it impossible to bear this any longer, and I eventually told my wife how I felt. I had been talking to a woman at work about my predicament (another huge mistake), on and off, and developed feelings for her as well. This, in turn, accelerated the following: I left my wife and my religion, was shunned by my family and friends as I knew I would be (with the exception of those that took the time to call/write me and tell me what a piece of shit I was or to try to change my mind) and I spent some time living in my car (during the start of winter 2013), as I had nowhere to go. I continued to give my wife all the money I could afford, literally every cent from my paychecks, while I lived off of small bonuses from work (which weren't guaranteed by any means). After a month or so I was able to find an apartment. During this time the woman I was interested in (an HB5 at best, with 2 kids; as I said, I was an idiot and a beta bitch) and I had started fucking and talking about the future, but she was still hung up on her ex ("Rob" - an Alpha-ish doctor that she had left after he cheated on her a while ago). I fought this, but in the most pitiful way possible. She had an opportunity to get back with him and, needless to say, told me it was over and that we should "just be friends, but not even that for a while" via text message. I was crushed at the time, since she had been the only person that knew what I was going through and my only friend (or so I thought).

At this point I was forced into a sort of "monk mode"; I had no close friends aside from one guy I had started going to the gym with, and he and I didn't talk much about what I was going though at the time. So, I started hitting the weights, reading, walking, and watching George Carlin specials on Netflix. I lost a great deal of weight, bought new clothes, carried myself better. I had always been told that I was handsome, though I didn't take it seriously. I'm 6' tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular by nature, but this had been hidden beneath a layer of flab and shitty clothes. I started thinking a lot more, taking time to try to figure out who the hell I was and what I wanted after being controlled my entire life. I was on the cusp; if I had discovered TRP at this time, I think my life would be much different now, but here is where things turned.

BODY: A (different) woman at work took an interest in me; she said that she saw that I was hurting and wanted to help. We began talking, a lot. I poured my heart out to her, told her everything, and she comforted me. Meanwhile, I behaved by and large as though IDGAF at work, though my performance was in the toilet. The truth was that I truly DIDN'T give a fuck; I missed my family and all of my friends, I felt nihilistic and depressed all the time, and I had begun drinking heavily while sleeping very little, despite my otherwise healthy habits. I was a manager at the time, and my work and that of my entire team was really subpar. My bosses talked to me regularly about how I needed to figure out a way to get it together. As an unintended side effect, I ignored most people, women included. Many of them took an interest in me, which threatened my new love interest. She constantly asked me if I was talking to other women, and I would assure that I was not. This baffled me, as I knew I had no desire to do so at the time, and why couldn't she see that? She was in the middle of a divorce herself (another huge red flag), and I assured her that she was "worth the wait". Meanwhile, an older woman that I worked with had warned me that this girl was also flirting with other men, thought I didn't want to believe it. I had the worst case of oneitis you could have; this was my soul mate, I was sure. She constantly told me that she wanted to take care of me, that she wanted to be with me, that she wanted to be everything to me, etc. We spent more and more time together. When we kissed for the first time, I thought to myself "this is it, this is the one, I don't ever want to be with another woman". Yes, literally.

Then, a day later, the older woman warned me again, saying that she had overheard my girl say that she "wanted to spend one night" with another man at work (her boss), one that she had repeatedly expressed disgust towards in my presence for flirting with and fucking any hot young thing that would look his way (the fact that she gave a shit should have been a window into red pill thinking, but I missed it). I got angry, and confronted her, but without actually confronting her at all. I asked her if she liked me, or just the way I made her "feel". She was angry, and accused me of being ridiculous and suspicious of her for no reason, that I had a lot of balls to question her. Ironically, I didn't have the balls to tell her what I had heard, as I was too afraid that it might be true or that she would get angry and cut me off. This was on a Friday, December 13th, 2013. We made up later that day, and I begged her to forgive me for doubting her affections.

The next Monday we slept together for the first time. It was amazing, the best sex I ever had. I dominated her in bed, without even thinking about it. She said "thank god" more times than I could count. The next 2 weeks were the happiest of my entire life, and I forgot all about the warnings. Then, everything changed.

I found out that she slept with her boss on the 14th. That's right, the day after I had gotten angry with her. Hours after she had asked me to send her to bed with "something wonderful" by text (I had been writing poetry and prose for her - try not to gag to hard while finishing that sentence). A mere 2 days before she and I slept together.

She claimed that it meant nothing, that she had gone out with friends after we stopped talking that night, gotten drunk, ran into him at a bar, and followed him home with no intention of sleeping with him; "it just happened"… When I told her that she wasn't who I thought she was, she told me that I should be ashamed for judging her by her worst moment of weakness and that she shouldn't be defined by her mistakes, but rather for "who she really was", the girl I had fallen in love with. She claimed that that same night she "realized she loved me", because of how guilty she felt, how much she "was afraid it would hurt" me if I ever found out, etc. I was sick. I didn't know what to do. But, of course, I immediately thought that I was obligated, as a modern man, to accept that she made a mistake and not judge her for it. I was terrified of losing this goddess that I had built on pedestal, without realizing that it was all a façade in the first place. She was the only person I still talked to that knew what I was going through; surely she wouldn't have CHOSEN to hurt me like this? It MUST have been an innocent mistake, right, or something malicious on his part?

For months, I fought to get over it. Once again, I was stuck in a position where I thought that this woman was all I had in the world. Our days alternated between good (when I could pretend or convince myself that I was ok) and really, really bad (when we would I would fight and I would demand the truth from her, or get drunk and call her a whore, only to later sober up and apologize). Her story would change, subtly, from time to time, always to paint her in a better light. At first, he had "made her feel wanted for the first time in years"; then, she "couldn't imagine why she slept with him… maybe someone slipped something in her drink?" Needless to say, she blamed him and was angry at him too. After all, how dare he take advantage of her in a less-than-sober state? He knew she was vulnerable! This despite the fact that when she told me the story originally, he was even more intoxicated than she was. I analyzed the story she told me again and again, noticing discrepancies in the timing, the reasoning, etc. I couldn't get over the inconsistencies, but did my level best to just forgive her anyway. Forgiveness is the mark of a "real" man, right?

It makes me sick to think that I was actually so naïve. Anyway, I got to the point that I knew I couldn't take it anymore, and prepared to break things off with her. I had been struggling with intense guilt, because I believed that it was my fault, that I just "couldn't get over it and see her for who she really was". I knew that when/if I left she'd be a wreck; she'd told me as much, again and again, even implying that if I left her she might commit suicide. I should have just called her bluff, but I wasn't wise enough at the time.

Then, my grandmother died. I came up to see her when she was in hospice, and was there at the end. I don't know if she knew I was there or not. I went to the funeral a few days later, where I saw my family and friends (this is "allowed", even though I was/am being shunned). I came home a wreck, and in my mind she was the only one to turn to (yes, I know, exactly what she wanted). Another week or two passed, and I prepared to leave, again.

That's when she got pregnant.

Yes, it's mine. I checked, believe me. Even before the test, I knew, though I had prayed I was wrong. We had begun living together (she was sleeping at my place every night, though she hadn't actually "moved in" it was near as makes no difference), and since we also worked together, she had literally not been out of my sight in the past month when she told me. Still, I held out hope that I could just walk away, guilt-free. No such luck.

At first I made promises to stay with her, for the baby, and make everything better. I would "fix myself" and get over it and fall back into love with her, I would make sure that my kid had a family, etc. I managed to maintain this for about 2 weeks before I cracked. I made it clear that I didn't think I could actually do any of that. Finally, I left…

Then, like a fool, I came back, scarcely a month or so later. And I didn't just show up and say "yup, I'm just here for the kid, let's live separate lives and try not to fight", I went all-in. I told her (and myself) that I loved her again, that I was there to make her happy, not just take care of the baby, and I meant it. I wanted to give my kid a true family, one that I thought would be exemplary, and how else could I do that if I didn't love its mother? "Happy wife, happy life", right? So the right thing to do was stick with it, fight my feelings on the matter, give up on anything for myself and marry the girl I knocked up…

Only nothing I tried worked, with her. She went from needing me back to telling me that she didn't trust me not to leave again, all the time. She went from wanting to fuck me whenever I wasn't angry with her to avoiding sex like it was the plague, and telling me that she just "didn't feel comfortable with me anymore" since I had left and come back. We fought all the time again, but not about what she had done - now it was about the fact that I'd left her, that I'd put her through that and how she felt now. Now we fought about everything BUT what she had done, because to bring it up was to "rub it in her face", no matter the context or my reason for doing so. I took over as the sole breadwinner after her pregnancy made it difficult to even stand (she has back and knee problems to begin with), and she quit her job.

From May to November this went on, and on, and on. I'd had enough; all of my good will towards her, all my reacquired and forced affection dried up and I told her again that I was done, that we'd either be nothing but roommates or I would leave. She said that she couldn't do that; that she needed me to at least pretend to love her, or pretend to be affectionate, or else she wouldn't be able to take it and we would have to separate. I gave in, and agreed to pretend, though I wouldn't say "I love you" again, and haven't since. I know how that sounds, but I couldn't stand the idea of being apart from my child, as yet unborn. Then the baby came in December, a little girl, now 16 months old. She is beautiful, and I honestly would live through all of what I have described again to have her (though I would not choose to if I had any other option).

I won't go into all of the fighting and misery of the past 16 months. Suffice to say, I love my little daughter and can't stand the thought of leaving her. She is the only thing keeping me here (that, and debt that prevents me from paying for 2 residences at this time). However, I no longer delude myself about the future. I found the Red Pill shortly before her birth, though I can't recall exactly when. The more I read, the angrier I got, though my "anger phase" has been primarily directed inward; I can accept the nature of women far more easily than I can excuse myself for being so blind to it.

Lessons Learned:

a. Don't get married (duh), but also don't commit yourself to a woman prior to marriage; even outside a legal, matrimonial bond, you can be "stuck" by other factors, primarily obligation, guilt, etc. Obviously this applies to those that are plugged in/in the early stages of unplugging far more than to you TRP veterans, as these are factors within a man's control. I, for one, am really struggling with this.

b. Don't stick your dick in crazy, or anything you wouldn't want kids with, unless you are snipped or using 2 forms of birth control. Get her used to anal. Flush condoms. Teach her to deepthroat. Oh, and make sure you see her swallow.

c. If you do get someone pregnant and you don't want an LTR with them, break off that part of your relationship long before the actual birth; once I laid eyes on my daughter, I couldn't bear the thought of not being there every night to keep her safe. Had I actually been living separate already, it would have greatly simplified things and I'd have had to accept this ahead of time.

Edit: Formatting