Seeing as the top search terms that reach this blog are “Jeans Handjob”, “Vegas One Night Stand”, and “Thick Mexican Girls”, I already know that the post I’m about to write is going to fall on the ears of the wrong crowd. But that’s okay, because I never wrote this blog with large ambitions.
A while ago, before I went to Vegas, I wrote about the dramatic story I was living with my Brazilian girlfriend who I had lived with in Brazil, and who had been pressuring me as to where our relationship was going. She came back to New York on a 50/50 shot of getting another tourist Visa, and within a week we were back together. It was around this time that I was about half-done with Roosh’ Day Game book, which was very good, and deserves to be written about here, even if it’s about a year too late.
So anyhow – we were back together, but not officially “boyfriend and girlfriend.” There was too much drama still fresh on my mind to leap into that label. Eventually, after a couple months, I did agree that we could be boyfriend and girlfriend. We were seeing eachother every weekend. I would notice good looking women in the street, but I still preferred my girlfriend. I reminisced the thrill of chasing strange tail, but I also realized that the chase has it’s pros and cons, and I was okay with having a woman who I was sexually attracted to who appeared to love me.
Of course, that’s just writing now, in hindsight. At the time, I can recall, it was right after we had a conversation about it, I went out with my friends, had a couple pulls off a joint, and nearly had a panic attack about the situation.
So, as any relationship involving a foreigner goes, there was a time limit involved. Her 6 month expiry date was soon approaching. The US Department of Immigration would toss her ass out with the garbage and not think twice about it. She was more than a little worried about it. She gave me stories of her friends who got married in situations like this so they could stay in the country. She even offered me money to just marry her.
I told her A. I’m not her friends, and B. There’s no way I’m marrying anyone for money.
Tensions continued to rise as her expiry date inched closer, but I tried my best to push it out of the narrative of our relationship, as every time it came up, it would lead to bad feelings. Of course I didn’t want her to get kicked out of the country, and of course I wanted her around, but was I really ready for *gulp* marriage?
To me, marriage was unnecessary. It felt like a holiday created by Hallmark for gift cards and presents and exorbitant wedding costs. No sir, I didn’t like it. Marriage to me seemed like what people do when they’ve had enough. Almost like a white flag. No more complete individuality, no more complete freedom. Instead, a metric shitload of responsibility. Mortgages. Future offspring. Mother in laws. More responsibility. Someone completely depending on you for their happiness. These were scary thoughts.
So… I had to decide… would I let her go?
I talked to many friends, some family, even anonymous people through chat websites. My mind was spinning around the topic. But in reality, no one can give you the right advice or answer. It has to come from within.
We went on vacation in Florida for a week and stayed with my Uncle at his condo. We had a fight one night before bed, about this very topic, and the next day in the morning I had a chat with my Uncle. I told him I didn’t sleep well. I was about to tell him about how she was breaking my balls the night before, but kept it to myself. He told me “This girl is special, she lights up a room. You only come across these kinds of women a couple times in your life.”
Now – I know the audience of this blog (all 7 of you) probably just gagged a little bit. But to me, coming from my uncle,who gauges people for a living, and who I respect, it meant something.
I made the tough decision on that trip. after days on the beach and in the pool, that I was going to keep her around. I was going to marry this Brazilian girl. She was going to be my wife.
I know people say that marriage shouldn’t be a tough decision, it should just feel right. But most people aren’t as neurotic or analytical as I am.
So – it’s been about 4 months since we got married on an unusually warm day in January in New York. We had a small celebration, and ate at a nice restaurant by Southstreet Seaport, where the ships came to New York ages ago.
These 4 months haven’t been a daydream, due to tensions related to immigration filings and other issues that affect any relationship. However, I don’t feel like I made a mistake. I’m happy to have her. She’s different. I like that. I may have to deal with the ‘latin temper’ more than one of my friends who marries their high school sweet heart, but I’m willing to accept the challenge.
It’s silly but one of the most important things to me is that she takes care of herself, and that she laughs at my shitty jokes.
Do I miss nailing strange? Of course. I’m a man. That will never go away. And I have gotten into some arguments of looking a little too long at other asses and titties.
But do I look forward to chilling on Brazilian beaches with an attractive tan skinned woman that loves me and makes me breakfast? (Not to mention other things.) Yes, indeed.
So … what is to become of this blog? Well… I’m not going to be writing about inserting any of my human parts into other women. I don’t think I’ll be writing about married life either. So just wait and see. If you have an idea, write it in the comments.