Repeated Reality in Book Seven: Reconstruction 2020

  • July 19, 2020, 12:23 a.m.
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You know, I truly hate to say it. The divorce was necessary and unavoidable and… in truth? Nobody’s fault… which, more accurately, is to say both of our fault in that my ex should have been more of an adult and I should have held myself in more esteem.

But I have to say? Between my ex-wife’s constant rejection of me both romantically and sexually? Coupled with my abject and abysmal failure on all dating apps? I find myself constantly wondering what is so wring with me that I don’t inspire a single soul to want to get to know me? As a writer, I typically get compliments. As a human, I am considered intelligent, kind, and compassionate. As a provider, I have ample resources and a deep well of emotional availability. Which, ultimately, leaves me to consider that my ultimate problem is surface. That my appearance is somehow faulty. Unacceptable. Lacking. And in that regard, I am not entirely sure what to do!

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