Life After Divorce: From Pain to Hope
When Marriage Fails: A Journey Through Divorce and Self-Discovery (Part 5 of 5)
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Selecting a suitable mate often means investing years in failed relationships to establish a list of criteria: must-haves, wants, can’t-stands, and rather-nots.
At first, as a man, the must-have is sex, want is looks, aversions, none—any port in the storm. With each disappointment, we add to our lists of can’t-stands and rather-nots, the crazies, the wounded, the needy.
As we gain experience with longer-term relationships, our lists become more nuanced and detailed, making it harder to find partners later in life, like having a million streaming shows and nothing to watch.
What I Can’t Abide
There are the obvious, glaring behaviors no one should stand for, but I found there were other things, subtler flaws, that gnawed at me just as deeply. Ways of handling conflict that left battle damage that wore me down over time. Small traits and irritants I once brushed aside became impossible to ignore. I saw that I couldn't live with specific traits, not in the long run, not if I wanted peace and love in my heart.
Anger the Deflator
There’s no building a relationship with someone who doesn’t control their anger, not if depth is the goal. A real relationship is about amassing a wealth of love, a reservoir of goodwill you can both draw from.
But anger empties that reservoir fast.
Eckhart Tolle called it the pain-body—how anger and pain take over, triggered by the smallest spark, flooding a person with thoughts and feelings that feed the fire, dragging both people down.
Each episode of rage or hidden resentment blackens the love, leaving grill marks on heart-meat, sizzling heat applied until it bursts. It isn’t just the explosions that break it; it’s the quiet, smoldering bitterness hidden behind a plastic smile.
Love languages matter not when anger consumes our souls. No kind words or gestures, gifts, or touch can fill the love tank faster than anger burns through it. For a bond to endure, that anger has to be controlled, defused, eliminated, or it will vaporize goodness until only stone remains.
Resentment the Controller
Resentment is anger’s sly cousin.
Resentment is remembered anger, a fire stoked by failure, by every disappointment, by every desire our lover fails to fulfill. If we cling to anger, if we permit it to fester instead of forgiving, those small flames gather strength over time, becoming a fierce blaze of unmet expectations and silent fury.
We hold our lovers accountable for every missed wish, every slight, until they stand at fault in our minds.
The fire inside sours our mood. Our lover notices, feels the distance, extends the olive branch.
They soften, meet our demands, try to ease our mood, offering what they can to bring back the tenderness we’ve hidden away.
And in that moment, we’ve trained ourselves in something dark, rewarded ourselves for using anger and resentment to push them into submission, to control the love we once shared.
We transform anger into something even darker, an implement of evil we then brandish to bully our partner. Anger and resentment, honed over time, come easily, almost naturally.
Our lover either bends to our will, doing exactly what we demand, or they face the firey rocket blast of simmering resentment. It’s a trap, binding us to a script of our writing, fueled by flames we never extinguished.
Resentment has no home in a home.
We can’t feel love or intimacy when we’re burning with anger, so we hold back, letting our affection grow cold.
We wait for the anger to pass, but it never does.
Resentment, used as control, slowly erodes power. Demanding compliance and exercising authority—these are masculine acts, powers that should be held with care and wielded with a sense of duty, never against the feminine.
Sometimes, in any relationship, a decision must stand firm, and yielding isn’t an option. Democracies fail with only two people. Wise leadership is superior.
But when a woman uses anger and resentment to shape her man’s actions, she sucks out his life force, not in his preferred way. Each time he submits, he weakens, browbeaten, pussyfied. Over time, she feels the change, her attraction fading as his power slips away.
And yet, the reverse holds true: a man who stands firm, whose inner strength leads her to follow, draws her closer, keeps the attraction alive.
Caustic Sarcasm
There’s a line between wit and cruelty. Playful banter, a subtle jab, the kind that’s laced with affection, playfulness—that’s fun, bonding, the secret code for human chemistry. It’s a way to tease, to show love with a smile.
But biting sarcasm, the kind that stings and cuts, is something else. It’s a laugh delivered with a fist, concealing anger, delivering pain.
Each sharp word, each jab masked as a joke, chips away at affection. That bitterness doesn’t just sting; it saps attraction, leaving the relationship hollow and lifeless.
Caustic sarcasm becomes civil war, particularly if two masculine energies clash for power and control in the relationship.
When I am correctly masculine, women respond with less anger because I never reflect their anger, disarming them. When not a pre-existing propensity of hers, avoiding caustic sarcasm is my responsibility.
Entitlement Undermines Everything
Entitlement kills gratitude, emptying the joy from any gift given freely. When entitlement burdens someone, they greet unmet expectations with frustration, anger, or disappointment, never seeing the kindness behind what they receive.
This feeling of emotional entitlement stands opposed to gratitude, twisting generosity into a transaction, an act done from obligation rather than the heart.
In any relationship where one person feels entitled, the effect is unmistakable. We give generously, hoping for warmth and recognition, but instead feel unseen, our efforts acknowledged only as what’s “owed.”
No one wants to freely give to someone who feels entitled to the gift, who sees kindness as an expectation, not a choice. Without genuine gratitude, there’s no return for the effort spent.
For me, the most precious gift a woman can give is the look of genuine thankfulness in her eyes. That’s the payoff, the reason men try so hard to make women happy.
In my heart, I need to feel that appreciation.
I can’t thrive in a relationship where my affection and attention are taken as due, where gratitude fades into entitlement.
Living With Passion
I can’t live in a passionless relationship. My energy flows freely, testosterone is high. I keep myself lean and fit, lifting weights and staying active daily. I may not be twenty anymore, but the fire still burns brightly. I need a relationship with real intimacy, not something platonic or watered down.
And I have my needs and kinks that I won’t compromise. Some desires are woven too deep. For me, passion has to be part of it, or there’s no point in the chase.
This is my fight song (hey)
Take back my life song (hey)
Prove I'm alright song (hey)
My power's turned on (hey)
Starting right now, I'll be strong (I'll be strong)
I'll play my fight song (hey)
And I don't really care if nobody else believes
'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in meFight Song—Rachel Platten
Being my Best Self
I focus on being my best self, refining the basics.
I pay attention to every detail in my dress and care for the sharpness in my appearance.
I push harder in my workouts, lifting with more purpose, and making each session count.
I build friendships and connect with others in my community.
I live a life with intention, one that a feminine woman would want to step into, drawn by the strength and steadiness in the foundation I lay.
I’m finding myself again, reclaiming what it means to be a man. I saw the problem clearly for the first time; I needed to change.
My identity is defined by my actions, by pursuing what drives me, keeping my word to live morally and ethically, giving something back to the community around me.
I’m defining what masculine behavior means to me. My incomplete list includes the following:
cultivating strength of heart, the courage to love, the resilience to recover from disappointment,
understanding and adapting to the needs of the feminine, always viewing disagreements through her feminine frame,
view the feminine as a helpless dove, protected from masculine resistance, especially my own,
improving self-discipline, the command and control over my body, my mind, and my choices,
the determination and courage to make decisions and stand firm behind them, and
the thrill of a life lived with passion.
I’m learning what it means to be the kind of man a woman would want at her side—not through new tricks, but by unlearning the false beliefs and habits that had dimmed my spark.
Now, I’m honest about who I am and what I expect. I make my choices freely, defend them with steady resolve, and feel no shame for what I think, say, and do.
My freedom is mine, and I intend to live it fully, with passion.
What does it take to be a man?
The will to give and not receive
The strength to say what you believe
The heart to feel what others feel inside
To see what they can seeA man is somethin' that's real
It's not what you are
It's what you can feel
It can't be too late
To look through the hate and see
I know that's what a man can beBe a Man—Boston
I’m building a foundation that won’t bend. I’ve always been sensitive, maybe too empathic—a softness that leaned toward the feminine. I let others’ beliefs slip into my own when I was younger, even when they clashed with what I felt was right. It was a weakness, a lack of confidence, allowing another’s view to replace my own.
I also wasted energy on my own illusions, tainted by pride and arrogance. I was lost in beliefs that didn’t serve me.
But a wise man sees through these deceptions, his own and those of others. He grounds himself in what’s real, refusing to be swayed or reshaped by outside voices, even in conflict, especially in conflict.
That’s the worldview I’m forging—a life built on solid ground, untouched by the shifting world around it.
Compassion Reigns Supreme
I’m going deeper into my spiritual practice, but this time, I’m shaping it to strengthen who I am.
Before, it softened me and brought out the gentler, more feminine traits, and that was my mistake, not the practice itself. I’d let the teachings take a form that dulled my edge, not embracing them properly.
Now, I see it differently. My practice is a well of strength, a source of courage and resilience—the marks of a firm, masculine man.
Compassion is the feeling of sadness for the suffering of another, coupled with the desire to relieve their pain. False bravado degrades this as bleeding heart nonsense, a weakness to be avoided.
In truth, feeling deeply the sadness of others takes tremendous strength of heart, the height of masculine power.
Compassion is masculine.
Compassion is the wellspring of Passion, the force of life.
I’m learning to weave these traits into my life, letting my heart guide me, but with the resolve of a steady hand and a clear mind.
Dating Again
If anyone thought this was a story of reconciliation, it isn’t. The divorce reasons remain, fixed like rusted iron. Over the past twenty years, we have released each other a piece at a time, painfully, like a slowly pulled bandage.
After the split, I thought I was ready to date. Our marriage had drifted into near indifference, and the slow separation left me emotionally unburdened.
I felt the usual concerns about finding someone new, but I created profiles on dating apps. I was pleased women were interested—beautiful women, some of them much younger, even by thirty years, near my son’s age. Helpful anxiety relief.
Catching a woman’s attention hasn’t changed.
They come runnin' just as fast as they can
'Cause every girl crazy 'bout a sharp dressed manSharp Dressed Man—ZZ Top
I didn’t turn to the apps out of need but out of curiosity, open to meeting someone compelling, or so I thought.
Yet, as the months passed, aversion crept in. I saw that I didn’t have to worry about anyone else’s thoughts or expectations for the first time in over two decades.
I yearned for freedom, not mental and emotional incarceration.
Obviously, I was closed-off and incomplete, not in the right frame for a new relationship, whole, free, open, accepting.
I needed to rediscover myself, my life, and my own vision of who I was and who I wanted to become.
The work is ongoing.
I stopped calls, texts, app chats. I froze the dating apps months ago, and they’ve stayed that way. I don’t feel any urge to look.
When I’m ready—when I feel that spark—I’ll go back.
Until then, I’m giving myself time.
I have messes to clean up first.
Penance to the Ex-Wife
Burning the sorrow so deeply into my heart had side effects. At the deepest of the sobbing, the determination arose to make amends, manifesting in two desires: cleanse her heart, provide her lifelong security.
Now, I allow her to vent her rage, never defending, absorbing her truth, her pain. It’s a slow process; I inflicted a deep wound with much residual pain. It will take as long as it takes.
I’m her social security. If all else fails, I’ll ensure she is taken care of. Even if we severed contact for many years, that obligation is buried deep, certain to arise.
She may ghost me to the degree she can, denying me an opportunity for redemption. She may find another man to provide her care.
I’ll do whatever is reasonable and appropriate to comfort her.
Penance, the road to redemption, has no final destination, no resolution, no release.
I don’t foresee ever feeling that I did enough.
Future relationships
A future relationship could add something good to my life, but it isn’t essential.
I don’t need anyone.
If I’m mistaken about everything, and women reject me as a knuckle-dragging Luddite, a Neanderthal, so be it.
I’ll let my hair grow. I’ll overcome.
I’m content being alone, living a single life, and if I never marry again or find another long-term relationship, I’d be perfectly fine. I don’t feel any drive to bend myself to fit anyone else’s world.
It’s a common mindset among those of us who’ve been through it before. Why tolerate negativity when it’s not required? I’ve got my life, my peace, and I won’t compromise that lightly.
In any future relationship, I won’t tolerate what’s intolerable.
I want a rare woman—spiritually enlightened, steady, a joyous soul living with an open heart.
She’ll have no room for anger or resentment, none of the poisons of jealousy or insecurity.
She’ll live without the chains of attachment, won’t cling, won’t control.
She’ll live without haunting ghosts from past relationships, no deception or infidelity, no dangerous foibles.
She’ll be ready to follow a man who proves his leadership daily.
And yes, she’ll be hot, and we will share chemistry, releasing primal energies that defy containment.
I’m done with power struggles, done with the conflict of masculine energies clashing. She’s not the one if I’m forced to pick and choose battles.
And there’s no room in my life for anyone who can’t fully accept that my son is a part of it. That’s non-negotiable.
For the right person, I’m open—but only if she brings the same clarity and strength I display. It’s a daunting search challenge, but I’m putting it into the universe here, now.
What will Karma send my way?
For any future relationship, sharing a worldview matters deeply. We know how easily expectations can clash when we cross into different cultures, religions, or political beliefs.
Society thrives on diversity, but at a personal level, it can be a challenge. Much of what we expect in relationships—gender roles, ways of handling conflict—comes from what we absorbed in our upbringing, embedded in us without us even knowing. And when those unspoken expectations don’t line up, it creates friction.
I’ve seen this before; I’ve lived it.
I acted against my spouse’s wishes, driven by an underlying worldview that didn’t match hers. Now, it’s clear to me that alignment in beliefs about gender roles and conflict resolution is essential.
When couples share this foundation, they encounter fewer conflicts and handle those that arise more easily. However, if the customs and beliefs are further apart, friction becomes a drag, challenging to overcome.
Every person is part gold, part dirt. The richness in a relationship isn’t just in the gold but in the dirt you can tolerate—maybe even learn to value over time.
I've been searching for the daughter
Of the devil himself
I've been searching for an angel in white
I've been waiting for a woman who's a little
Of both
And I can feel her but she's nowhere
In sightOne of These Nights — The Eagles
One day, I’ll step into a new relationship. When the moon and stars fall into place, I’ll feel fully myself—strong, masculine, and ready to meet a woman whose spirit mirrors my own, who’s just as prepared for what lies ahead.
Then, it’s up to Karma, or Fate, or God, to set up that perfect moment, that serendipitous meet-cute that shifts everything.
I hold onto the faith that finding the right person brings rewards beyond words. We’re social creatures, born with an innate goodness that runs deep, an instinct coded into us. We all want to feel loved, valued, respected, truly seen, appreciated, and wholeheartedly accepted.
Meeting another brave soul is only a matter of patience, resolve, and the courage to live fully.
I believe a brave heart always prevails.
I feel optimism in my bones—for life, happiness, and the unknown adventures still waiting to unfold.
