This is long as shit. For those of you who have the attention span of a gnat and lack enough discipline to make it through this, I'll save you the time and put the TL;DR up front.

TL;DR - Hit the gym. Own your shit. Be a man. Bitches love it.

Looking back at it all now, I can't believe I was so stupid. Turns out I was lucky enough that you'll probably end up hating me by the time you finish reading this (if you even make it that far). I was lucky as hell. But stupid.

I was quiet, shy, and introverted. I played video games all the time. I smoked weed all day long. I played Dungeons & Dragons. I wore combat boots and a trench coat. In the middle of summer. Yeah. I was that guy.

Never obese, but always a bit overweight. My 260lbs was balanced out evenly by being 6'2". As long as I didn't take my shirt off, I didn't mind being in public, provided I wasn't the center of attention. No social skills to speak of at this time, which was about 11 years ago. I'd had sex with roughly 15 women and received head from 1 very effeminate man by the time I met her (I had just turned 21). I was low enough on the self esteem meter that several of my notches were from the pick-up strategy now known as "hogging", I believe it is (don't really know the names, as doing such things intentionally was never spoken of in my limited circles - we were beta enough to believe we deserved better than the desperate landwhales).

Now, before this, during highschool, I wanted to try and grow my social skills, so I joined the varsity football team in junior year. There, I had met an average looking girl (5/10), dated her, and, in the most classic of unintentional alpha maneuvers, knocked her up on prom night, and then ditched her when I went off to college. Felt bad about abandoning my child. That remorse will come back to bite me in the future...

Failed out of college (smoked too much weed and had too little experience with being responsible), but kept gaming. Made a new social circle built around gaming as my main hobby.

I was at a friend's house one night, talking about a D&D game I wanted to put together. She was there. A very good looking woman with a huge rack (by my personal standards, I'd rate her 7/10 standard, +1 more for the huge tits). When I was ready to leave, she suggested to me that the two of us go back to my place to "work on characters".

I was such a BP chump, I thought that's what she actually wanted to do. Imagine my surprise when, after spending another hour talking about bullshit fantasy characters, she pushed the books aside and asked me when I was going to kiss her.

We fucked good that night. I may not have had social skills, or any significant experience with women, but I was lucky enough to be born with decent equipment and enough brains to figure out how to use it properly.

The next morning she explained that she had a boyfriend, but it was an open relationship because it wasn't going well. I told her that it was fine if that was their agreement, but if she was allowing herself to stay in a bad relationship because she was too chicken shit to pull the plug, then I couldn't respect her, and wouldn't be able to do anything with her other than just be fuck buddies.

Within a week she told me she broke up with him.

Within a month we were seeing each other exclusively.

Oh... did I mention yet that she was a single mother? Yeah.. tell me about it. Wish I knew then what I know now, but, alas, I was unenlightened. Thought it was bonus points for me to "do what another man failed to do"... ugh.. I can't cringe enough for my younger self, so please feel free to lend your cringes. The closest thing I have to a plausible excuse is that I was probably trying to make up for abandoning my own son.

Within three months "we" found out "we" was pregnant.

Considering the very visceral reaction she had to the results, it was easy for me to believe she was not trying to trap me (now that I've found TRP, I've got that doubt - but the kid is definitely mine).

Again... I felt that remorse for abandoning my son from the prom night chick, and having wanted my own family (waaaay too early, no less), I decided I would stick it out with her, and help her raise the kid.

We agreed we would not rush to marry, but would see how things went. They went well enough that two years later, we were getting married.

Somewhere along the way, we had the discussion about "the number".

Now, I want you all to sit down for this... and maybe get a clean pair of pants ready...

She was honest with me.

I was #384.

I'll say that again, because it's not a typo. Three-hundred eighty-four.

We are talking epic levels of CC going on here. Multiple partners in a day, gangbangs, and yes, even a history of cheating. I have absolutely NO idea why she was honest with me about these things. But... oh... my... god... she was everything I ever wanted in a woman. She fucked me the way I wanted to be fucked. She cooked the kinds of food I loved. She wanted to watch me play video games. She smoked more weed than I did. She liked to play D&D.

So, yeah. No fucking wonder BP me was jizzing in my pants that I found such a girl. I was all too eager to "not judge her by her history" (foreshadowing here: don't be like me. Judge the fuck out of her history!)

I proposed to her in the least romantic and unimaginative way. She accepted. We had a beautiful wedding venue that shifted to a shitty barn when it rained that day .

Now, I know what you're all expecting here... As soon as she had that ring on her finger, the shop closed up, right? Surprisingly enough, nothing changed. She kept cooking the foods I loved. She kept wanting to watch me play games. She kept fucking me almost every night. 8 out of 10 nights, I got sex, but of course it was only if I did the work, and didn't take too long. Of course, there was the classic one thing that I think all wives do - if I wanted head? Fuggedaboutit.

Anyway, within one year after marriage, I decided we needed to make a better life for our daughter. I picked myself up by my bootstraps, got both of us back into college, gathered up $10K from nothing to move us to where we live now, so we could be close to the colleges we wanted to attend as well as a viable job market. Where we were was a shit hole meth town. If we had stayed any longer, we'd have been lost to that abyss.

And we were happy.

Until several years ago. Her best friend (who, of course, was a guy she wouldn't fuck - I'll take 'orbiter' for $500, Alex) was murdered. She went into a horrendous downward spiral.

It was a tough place for both of us. She was genuinely hurting (at least in so much as she was totally focused on what she had lost, and not nearly as much on what other people were dealing with), and there's no way you can tell someone to just "get over it" when it comes to losing someone to an unexpected death (years later, I would experience the loss of my own father, unexpectedly, and looking back from the other side, I still stand by my decision to let her fail at grieving her own way, rather than try to force her to get over it - never ever tell someone else how to grieve.)

She would want to buy things to feel better. I had to work overtime to make that money. Then she would complain about me not being around, so I would cut back on the overtime. Then she wanted to buy something. And so the cycle went for months. Gradually, with every turn of this routine, we would push a little further away from each other, and try a little less harder to come back together.

On February 13th, almost a year after her friend had been killed, the night before Valentine's day, she had left her phone at home accidentally, and didn't realize it. I had time to search through it. I found exactly what I was hoping to disprove.

She was sending nudes to another guy.

Not just pictures. She was also sending videos.

She was fucking this guy.

And the best part? This guy is not just any guy... he was her first. #1 of 384. I knew instinctively what kind of weight he held with her... what the first holds for any woman... I knew shit was FUBAR.

I called the phone of the friend she had gone to, and spoke with her. Let her know enough of what I knew that she knew she couldn't lie her way out of it.

By the time she returned home, I had had a few shots of tequila, and I tossed my ring at her. Told her she had one, and only one, chance to tell me everything. Anything less than absolute honesty was not only going to cause me to leave her that very night, but I would, and I quote my words from that night: "show you how deep and sharp the scorn of the betrayed can truly cut."

wait...wat?

Yeah... if you read that closely, you read that right... I was giving Super-Slut a second chance...

Ugh.. I know, I know... but hang with me guys... you'll hate me even more, come pretty soon...

I had to give her another chance. At least, I thought I did at the time... You see, she had brought her best friend into bed with us for my benefit. Even let me fuck her friend when she was out of town. Looking back, I have no fucking clue what she was doing at the time, so who knows if we were even or not, but at the time this happened, she convinced me it that it was pretty much the same thing. She allowing me to sleep with her friend (who was less attractive than her) was equivalent to her going off and banging the guy who popped her cherry while actively lying to me about it.

The point was... everything else was so close to perfect, and I was so codependent, that I was willing to find a way to get over it, as long as she promised to find a way to stay faithful.

Over the course of the next 4 years, after turning into James Bond and watching her like a hawk without so much as a hair out of place from where I told her to put it, I slowly started to get complacent again. Working more overtime. Being less decisive about things. Asking her for more and more input. Asking her to be in charge of more and more responsibilities.

Up until earlier this summer. She goes to visit some old friends for 4th of July. While she's up there, something happens with another male she has strong sexual history with. He makes a move on her.

I get a call the next morning. Rustling sounds, distant speaking - she butt-dialed me... I can't breath, and my heart is pounding out of my chest. What the fuck is this? I think...

I hear her talking to someone about how someone else made a move on her, and she had to push him off and yell some sense into him.

On one hand, I sigh a breath of relief. By the sounds going on, it is obvious she doesn't know I am listening - so it is easy for me to believe she actually turned the guy down and stayed faithful (this time?). On the other hand... I was quite pissed that I was hearing this second hand, that she didn't report this to me directly as soon as it happened.

I let my emotions get the better of me, hung up the call, and texted her a line she had said, and that if this kind of shit was going on, there was no reason for her to bother coming home. I eventually let the issue go, once she was back home, and I was able to see her face as she spoke her answers (I used all the tricks I had learned from my paranoia about her cheating again - this time I was prepared to interrogate her).

However... something wasn't quite right after that... I felt that all too familiar coldness growing between us... the same thing I had felt 4 years ago, but was too unawares to recognize.

This time, I knew what it would become, and I wanted to nip it in the bud.

I told her I didn't believe she was fully vested in our marriage anymore, and if she couldn't tell me what she felt she was missing, then I wasn't going to fuck around anymore, and I was going to file for divorce.

I reminded her of that discussion we had at the very beginning - if you're too chicken shit to pull the plug on a bad relationship, then you are not worthy of my respect. I at least, by this point, had enough self respect to uphold this policy, but I had a very shitty, limited, blue-pill definition of what a "bad" relationship looked like.

She told me what was missing. I wasn't prepared for her to be so blatantly honest. Having ingested TRP, and looking back, I still can't believe how honest this woman has been with me at each and every turn.

She flat out told me that what she was missing was the power she had over men when she was able to use sex to manipulate them.

She wanted an open relationship, because she wanted to be able to manipulate a bunch of men into doing things for her and giving her things to make her life easier.

I knew from 4 years ago that just "giving her things" was not going to make her happier. I had tried that already. I also knew from the way I met her that once I allowed an open relationship, that would be the end of it. She would find someone else and leave me.

However, having been beaten down by so much that I was unaware of at the time (how BP I was, she was the worst offender of the CC, single-mother, 6 years older than me, but at least still pre-wall when we got married - for whatever the fuck that's worth...) I was ready to give up.

I decided an open marriage would be better for both of us. If she needed to be fucking other guys to feel good, then I could live with just having a paper marriage, and finding my own girls to fuck. We would have to put on a show for our children, but we at least wouldn't have to lie to each other.

I told her I was signing up for Ashley Maddison. She encouraged it. I started researching how to gather and maintain a harem. Fuck it.. if I was going to do this, I was going to do this large.

That was when I found TRP.

I read the sidebar. I read some posts. I read more sidebar.

Everything clicked. The light turned on. The angels sang.

I was finally able to wake myself up from this nightmare I had been living.

I ripped the plug from the back of my head. My hope, and by proxy my soul, jump-started back to life.

I could be a man again. Fuck again. I could be a man for the first time in my life!

A few days later, I noticed I had several messages from some very attractive ladies on AM. I knew what I had to do...

(Hit the word count limit. Will finish in a reply to myself)