Today's lesson comes from one of my favorite movies of all time, Bull Durham. There's plenty of RP red meat in there about post-wall women, hypergamy, masculinity, and being the master of your own fate. Specifically, this scene, where Annie (played by Susan Sarandon) explains her rules for relationships to Crash (Kevin Costner):

Annie: These are the ground rules. I hook up with one guy a season. Usually takes me a couple weeks to pick the guy - kinda my own spring training. And, well, you two are the most promising prospects of the season so far, so I just thought we should kinda get to know each other.

Crash: Time out. Why do you get to choose?

Annie Savoy: What?

Crash: Why do you get to choose? I mean, why don't I get to choose, why doesn't he get to choose?

Annie: Well, actually, nobody on this planet ever really chooses each other. I mean, it's all a question of quantum physics, molecular attraction, and timing. Why, there are laws we don't understand that bring us together and tear us apart.

Which brings me to my point... to women, attraction is an feeling that "just happens" in the presence of the right man, and love is an emotion that they have no control over. It's all so mysterious and magical, and they just don't question it. And by the same token, when that attraction is gone for some reason, so are the emotions.

You can plumb my history for my sad story, but it's the same as many others who stumble into this forum -- I stopped bringing the tingles, and she dried up. And to ask, nobody was to blame... we just got older, got busier, got used to the rut. After 20+ years together, I was thirsty and she was "not feeling the spark." We were well on our way toward friendly cohabitation for our remaining years.

I had spent months going in circles trying to snap out of the funk, making plays for her attention, and generally doubling down on the BP/BB conditioning that I thought she wanted. I sought out old friends for advice, hung out on /r/DB, and other (more embarrassing) attempts to find the problem. I was aware of TRP, but not interested in their adolescent solipsism and chest-thumping misogyny.

It wasn't until I found MRP that I could focus on the root cause of my woes. Swallowing the pill showed me was that (a) I was to blame for the rut, and (b) she was just mirroring my apathy. And it wasn't just the bedroom, it was our entire life: diet, chores, parenting, and activities. I looked in the mirror and saw a fat fuck who was gliding through life, expecting my wife to pick up the slack (and suck my dick) for the privilege of being married to me.

So, I started lifting and hit the sidebar. I can't say that I've gotten all of my shit in a pile yet, but after nearly 10 months, I can say that the changes in my life (and in my head) are dramatic. We've recovered some of that old magic from our early marriage, and I'm more confident about the path forward. And she enjoys the changes, even if she doesn't know where they've come from.

The point is, I took back control over the relationship. It's clear to me that all of her talk about making decisions "together" really means that she wants me to make the plans and then she can decide whether they are suitable. It's up to me to be the leader, set the pace, and she will then judge based on how it makes her feel. Exciting experiences, strong emotions, and a clear, positive direction are what give her the tingles. (It was never about choreplay or validating her feelings.)

For example, I generally lead the family when we go places: I drive, I get the door and hold it, speak with the hostess, or find us a seat. The thing is, I used to do it with no other purpose than efficiency -- because if I didn't, nobody would, and we'd dawdle. Sure, I'd steer her through the door with my hand on her waist, or discuss my decisions waiting for her input, but it was generally just to be accommodating.

Now, I make plans... I know where we're going, I herd the family, and I close off discussion when it stops being productive. More importantly, I have started leading my wife. When we go out, I don't just hold her hand, I take it. Then I stride to where we're going, and even pull her along a little bit. On our last vacation, she was anxious because we had never used Uber. She confided to me later that just my demeanor with the driver, making active conversation and knowing where we were going, comforted her.

To the observer, the most dramatic change in my life has been exercise and dressing better, but that's not the only thing that matters. It's the stuff that's changed that she doesn't see that have had the biggest impact. I suppose you could call it a "mid-life crisis", but what it really is that I have stopped looking at the universe to fix my shit, and started doing it myself.

Life just happens to some people (which explains the rampant "victim mentality" in our society). When they fall or get knocked down, it's just karma, or fate, or quantum physics, or "a rigged system" -- anything else but themselves.

Others stand up, brush off the dust, and just get right back to work.