TL;DR: In the face of hypergamy/branch-swinging/alpha fux-beta-bux/Chad/cheating/lying, can we ever fall in love again in a vulnerable and poignant way, or is it just impossible and to be avoided?

If I ventured in the slipstream

Between the viaducts of your dream

Where immobile steel rims crack

And the ditch in the back roads stop

Could you find me?

Would you kiss-a my eyes?

To lay me down

In silence easy

To be born again

To be born again

These are the incredibly beautiful lyrics from Van Morrison's song, Astral Weeks. I remember once upon a time I felt this way about a woman. A woman that was very special to me. I simply can't ever imagine feeling like that again, given the complete realisation of the reality of it all.

As I listen to poet-artists like Van Morrison, Neil Young, Paul Simon, Yo La Tengo, Beach House, and other such geniuses; I can't help but wonder, ... with lyrics so poignant, heartfelt, and vulnerable, isn’t it completely impossible this sort of sentiment could ever exist in reality? What I mean is, given the unfortunate nature of women, primarily hypergamy (but all of the other negative qualities too), being in love in such a poignant, vulnerable way is ultimately foolish and unrealistic. And yet, I can recall feeling like it was the most incredible magical world. Colors were brighter. I felt like the lyrics and music were written for me, and they painted my world and made my soul sing. A truly blissful illusion.

Does that sound beta? Probably. But I simply cannot forget the years I was with this woman and the music and poetry we'd share - how real it felt. Spoiler alert: She ended up treating me like shit leaving me when I lost my job, completely deleting my perception of how deep and transcendent the 'love' was. I showed a moment of weakness and hardship, and she was gone in an instant.

I read the poetry of Pabldo Neruda or the letters Vladimir Nabakov wrote to his wife (“Yes, I need you, my fairy-tale. Because you are the only person I can talk with about the shade of a cloud, about the song of a thought — and about how, when I went out to work today and looked a tall sunflower in the face, it smiled at me with all of its seeds.”) and I can’t help but feel so depressed that it’s all just an illusion. I thought it was real for so long; the highest thing to aspire to, a genuine love.

Are these poets and musicians just ‘blue pill beta males’ in the eyes of the TRP community? Where does this sort of heartfelt sentiment fall under this framework? It just saddens me. I feel freed because I think I’ve found the truth, that it was just an illusion. But just the same, it makes me depressed beyond belief.