In my teens, 20s and 30s I worked primarily in the restaurant industry in a subtropical location known for tourism. It was quite the life primer. Anyone who has ever been a bartender or a waiter in an upscale joint knows that its a career and a lifestyle conducive to getting plenty of pussy.

Your basic daily schedule is get up around 10:30. Shower/brush teeth. Hit the gym. Go have a $20 lunch somewhere with one of your server buddies at some foodie joint in your regular rotation of lunchtime foodie joints. Smoke a fat bong rip or fat ass blunt right after lunch. Throw your work clothes in the wash machine/dryer. Take a nap or play vidya depending on your mood. Shower brush teeth & shave. Arrive at work approx 4:30 PM. Work your shift and make anywhere from $200 to $400. Leave work and go to one of 3 or 4 main bars you frequent popular with the local hospitality crowd depending on who is doing what and where. Party until bar close (2 AM usually). Rinse and repeat.

Don't let that easy street life of luxury fool you, being a fine dining server is hard. Let me put it to you this way - I'm a pretty well educated guy, my current job is very technical and when I start talking about the granular details of my work people recoil from it in fear and marvel thinking I'm some sort of genius dealing in subject matter light years beyond common understanding - but being a pro's pro fine dining shark was way harder and took much longer to master. Knowing every ingredient, preparation, methodology, style and source of origin on every item on the menu is just the beginning. Then you have wine lists and reserve wine lists, where you need to know every grape used, every location grown, quips about specific vintners and their reputations and of course tasting notes for all wines. Oh and the bar too! Cognacs for example have grades and regions, and its not Armagnac, but armagnac is brandy. Scotches!! We just don't have the time to discuss the full spectrum of peat to dry variants in single malt, single grain, blended malt, blended grain, and blended Scotch. Then you get the odd German guy who either wants to drink grappa or sample some of the finer Anejos he knows you have and can't generally find in Europe. Know what Rammazotti is? Strega? Yeah you get the picture.

There is a lot to know and you have to remember everyone's order in your head without writing anything down. So there's that, but it's not just that - the best waiters have a Byron-esque wit and charm when pressed, dealing with anywhere from 15-40 guests in an evening. In a busy, successful restaurant every night is like a raucous party and every guest is looking for an experience. Not only do you have to be smart as hell to what equates to being able to recite back specific passages from a tome comprised of several languages, but you have to manage perception and expectation of every guest all while running your ass off carrying 70 lb trays. Then there's the grumpy fucks in the kitchen who despise you (unless you regularly hook them up with drugs) and working with them to get your special orders right and on time. You are individually accessing, adjusting to, anticipating and delivering to the desires of complete strangers while maintaining rapport with management and co-workers.

There's so much more, I could go on and on, but the point is if you ever meet that cocky, self assured waiter who you think way over estimates himself - there's a reason why he's so inflated. He knows he's a badass. He's making near $2K a week on 5-6 6-7 hour shifts, getting taxed on half of it, running game not just at work, but also at play - partying his ass off and sleeping in every day.

And the girls? LOL The girls... They throw themselves at you.

Its a hell of a life for a bachelor - if you have the chops and don't flunk out by becoming a raging drunk or drug addict in the process. It took me a decade of fighting and grinding night after fucking night to reach the top flight job in my area. Then when I got there I was green and I had to work from there on up too.

Point of all this is life doesn't always just happen. Ships don't just sail in. You don't just get the big job. And the girl....? Well the girl isn't always going to have your back by default. Everything takes work. Everything takes effort. Success comes from the time put in, the intelligence to grasp WTF is going on and the experience/wisdom to know what it all means.

So anger phase... What is it? Its that period after shit went really wrong for you that you come to finally fucking understand that women don't give a rats ass fuck about you. All they care about is their moment to moment whims and if they need to drive a bus over you to get a leg up, they'll do it without losing a damn blink of sleep. Oh they sleep like babes - with candied visions that hide their fucking devil horns.

Myself? Well I had an extended stay at Motel 666 Anger Phase lodge - and if I'm not careful sometimes I get really close to checking back in. Why? Because unfortunately women aren't the sweet, empathetic, kind people we delusionally believe they should be. If only they would change right? But they aren't going to change. The harder you get burned the more of that anxiety that constantly fucks with you lingers. If its divorce with kids - and fucking head games with the kids and all that mind-shattering lunacy that only the spawn of Satan could produce - then oh boy. Strap yourself in, because the ride never fucking ends.

Years ago, the one main mentor I had in the restaurant business, owner of this place that did like $3M+ a year in revenue, pulled me aside and pointed out the behavior of two different waiters. One was whistling happily polishing and putting away glasses. The other pitched his book on the side station counter in disgust, grumbling about fucking campers and how the extra $10 he was going to make after tip out in no way makes up for closing. Both had late tables and were the designated closers for the evening. Why was one waiter whistling and happy and the other brooding? The owner said Sammy, look at the unhappy waiter. He's complaining about the job. But if the job is so bad why isn't the other waiter complaining too? I'll tell you why. Its not the job. The job is the job. He is not unhappy with the job, he is unhappy with himself.

And he was right, the dude drank himself to black out at home alone just about every night. Why did he drink at home alone to excess every night? Because he knew if he didn't it would be 100% that he would get a DUI. He'd start drinking a glass of wine or two at the restaurant, find some way to pound some kind of booze and be primed with 3-4 under his belt (at least) before he walked out the door. If he went to the bar - two double talls (and shots in between) later he'd be a slurring mess (I seen it with my own eyes). Dude would be at 10 drinks down 10:30 - midnight. By 1 AM - slurring Captain Fantastic doing and saying the most inappropriate shit imaginable. This dude was the opposite of a chick magnet. He was chick repellent. He was in his early mid 30s at the time and honed himself into this drinking habit that only allowed him to make a beeline home from work - only stopping at the liquor store if necessary - every night. Nice life huh? Not exactly the player's life I described above is it? Guess which kind of dude would be smiling while doing his sidework getting ready to leave?

OK imagine now the girl (or all girls) is the job and you are the waiter. Why are you so angry? Think about how your life is constructed and the choices you have made to get you to where you are now. Are you unhappy with your situation? People often perpetually bitch about their condition, but do nothing about it. They stagnate. Thew stew. They wallow. They ferment - but they don't do shit about it and shit never changes.

Don't get me wrong. Not saying that women are perfect princesses and you're the fucking loser (although that might fit some cases). Not at all. I know women are cunts most of the time - especially when they are young. Its no fun at all when you are at their whim. So that answer is... Don't be at their whim. Direct your attentions inward. Self improve.

I went through some bad bad bad shit. I hated women for a time. HATED. I recognized how selfish, shallow, immature, dishonest, manipulative, etc, etc they were. The blinders came off and I saw it all. They aren't victims that's for fucking sure - but they are women. The job is the job. So I went to work on myself. My personal condition improved - mental, physical and financial. I got my shit together after the divorce. I picked up the pieces and I soldiered on. Inch by inch, I kept my head down and kept building. After a few years, I picked my head up and took inventory. New job, new car, new house, bank account, making more money now then I ever have... New life. Lo and behold I'm starting to think, you know maybe women aren't so bad. I even started to see the good in some of them. They're not all total cunts. A few of them I even genuinely like. Only now - I am not dependent on any woman for my personal happiness. I have constructed my life in such a way that - with or without women - I'm good. Also, tonight I just fucked this smoke show dime piece gym rat chick with jet black hair down to her waist, full Brazilian and no tan lines. The rubber robbed me of a little too much sensation so I had trouble busting a nut - so she sucked me off to bring me across the finish line. What a trooper. She's basically begging me to be her boyfriend. I'm thinking about it, but eh. I'm in no hurry. I'm just whistling polishing these glasses.