How To Find A Wife, Red Wine, Confusion, Gold Diggery, Xanax & Divorce Rape

social hierarchy

So I was in a bar last night catching up with a very old friend of mine I hadn’t seen in decades. She is married and after a few bottles of wines her husband started telling me how to find a wife until I turned the discussion to why I have no interest in getting married again. They really challenged me to explain and it and proceeded to tell me how to find a wife.  It unearthed quite a few hidden things within my psyche – maybe skeletons, maybe reservations but definitely a lot of preconceptions and a few (defence) mechanisms. From what I can piece together (from the remnants of what I remember through my cracking headache) the thought pattern went something like this.

The Obvious Concern is her Biological Clock Pressure Cooker

I am in my mid 40s and I already have all the kids I want so a woman that I would be dating would have to be considerably younger and thence staring down the tail end of her fertility window (even if she was in her early 30s – women stress out about that stuff, cue the term baby rabies).

This scenario conjures up several stories I have heard other men tell me about ways in which they unwillingly ended up fathering children to (baby raby) infected 30 or 40 something crazies. Not for me. Too risky so the first filter was set in place, no women who aspire to have more kids.

From what I think I can remember that part of the conversation only lasted a glass or two – that should be a no-brainer for any single man. The next bottle was corked and these two wouldn’t give up, they had started searching their phone directories and short-listed candidates for my blind date. At this point their short list was 30 strong.

I felt obliged to step up my argument next level suggest the next filter.

Recon the Mother-in-law

recon the motherFrom what I have seen in life (and that is a considerable amount for someone as young as me) women love to follow the path of the mothers and very seldom put in the considerable effort required to grown beyond the hands dealt to them.

Over the next bottle I set about explaining that any woman who grew up with a role model (her mother) who ticks any of these boxes becomes ff limits to me:

  • been to jail, convicted of a crime or spent time in a mental institution (pretty obvious, ha)
  • violent to men, spends her spare time man bashing, or holds any sort of generic grudge again men just because they are men
  • liars or over-exaggerators
  • drama queens
  • divorced twice
  • susceptible to any forms of depression, anxiety or such mental illness
  • alcohol addicts
  • prescription drugs addicts
  • over the top materialists or consumerists (has to continually shop to feel good)
  • plastic surgery fanatics
  • or just generally any women aspiring to marry into money
  • career divorcees (for money)
  • long term welfare recipients

Now I got on top with all these point until the last one. I thought it was blatantly obvious, I don’t want to be associated with anyone lazy enough to mooch off the government for a living. What do you think? That part of the conversation stepped up the heat and apparently cut out several people straight off the bat.

By this time my friend had start making phone calls and asking her candidates questions about their backgrounds and I could tell that I wasn’t going to get out of this unscathed unless I let the rest of the cats out of the bag.

Next Filter.

dating single parents

Anti-Depressants, or Anti-Anxiety pills

For my own reasons I have decided that any women who is (or ever has) taken prescription drugs for mental illness is off limits, not to be considered. There was another two couples at the table by now and of course all the women disagreed with my attitude. I finally turned them around when I made this final argument:

If women can filter out men based on such an arbitrary (uncontrollable) trait as a man’s height I can filter them out based on a somewhat controllable trait as a woman’s mental health. Let me have this one and I won’t have to pull out the Fat Chick Card.

Surprisingly once the fat chick phrase was mention I won. To my astonishment all the women knew each other medical histories and the short list was becoming very short indeed but I still had more cats dying to jump out of my bag of tricks.

Divorce Rapists – aka Gold Diggers

Once I told them the story of how I was divorce raped and stated emphatically that I would not hook up with any woman who could do that to a man we had my next filter locked and loaded. Once again these women knew each others relationship histories in great detail and the list of 15 odd candidates was struck down to a handful.

At this point I was really toasted and cleavage was starting to close in on me so I laid down my last card.


I am not a millionaire, I am not ever going to be one and I don’t even see myself getting back into a financial situation where I could afford to buy real estate, two cars and all the things that a girlfriend requires just to get a foot in the door. I set down the challenge if they could find any women who would accept me for what I was, didn’t want to change me and aspired to the same things I aspired to bring it on. By the way my aspirations are:

  • work the least amount possible whilst not accepting charity from anyone
  • above all else I just want peace and quiet and freedom to do what I want (no planning, no nagging)
  • do what I want, when it want, with whomever I want, no restrictions
  • never to had to get involved in any of those uncomfortable family dinners or events with people you don’t give a toss about and don’t want to talk to

It took an hour or two, several Facebook messages, phone calls and a few mugshots (of me) but we heard back from every woman on the short list (about half a dozen by then). Every one of them had their own red flags and as it turns out pretty much all of them centered around money and height. At this point in the night we were toasted so I felt obliged to shout a round, rest my case and leave the unhappy couples to their confusion.

Day After Reflections

Most people still hold onto some sort of magical fairytale and insist of trying to reshape their reality to match the myth.  These people are idealists and don’t mix well with the realists like myself.  If you know a single mother perplexed as to why she can’t find her mythical prince charming feel free to share this article and add some relfections of your own in the comments below.  Cheers, thanks for reading, I need more Aspirin. Here is a clip of the song I used to pick me up this morning.  Enjoy.

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