It was sooooooo funny when he dropped the line. I mean, I was rolling. As much as I hated it, he was right and I knew it. “Men are loved conditionally.” Everything about it was hilarious and I felt sick laughing about it.
Men are loved conditionally. On the condition that we bring home bacon, bread, dollars. Me? Handicapped Realtor grinding himself into a disabled agent. Look, I admit that I have NOT been the most efficient breadwinner. The up and down nature of commissions for a…. Shoot, little known agent keep bills interesting in this 3rd life of mine. In no way have my earnings been consistent and short is an understatement. So, that makes me what? Like; for real, for real. What are the men, husbands and fathers unable to meet financial demands for the positions they are lifetime contracted to hold? Are we… *gulp* divorced? I’m asking for a friend. If I’m being honest, that’s what’s up huh? My success as a father/husband/man shouldn’t have this direct link to income but it does. I feel it everyday. I see it in my family’s eyes when I run mental calculations of whom to rob every Monday, Peter, Paul, Patrick or Patterson. I’m telling you I see it and it hurts more than any of the diseases I’m scrapping. Sure, I have a built-in excuses. Legit excuses. Pitiful explanation. I have truth but it’s easily twisted. Bottom line is I don’t bring a regular paycheck and the fact affects my relationships.
This is scary. This MUST be that moment tempting young men to take ridiculous chances with their freedom. When bills stack up and they can feel the family depending on them. Pressure busts pipes and makes diamonds so men use the streets for relief and hope. What if I refuse this definition? Dawg, I have MS. It isn’t going away. Bro, I don’t have healthcare. MS will get worse anyway but without healthcare, I am painfully aware it will get worse anyway. Real talk, where does this theory leave me? Loveable loser? Doomed daddy? Oops, asking for a friend.