The Marriage Trap

If you’ve been reading my blog for a while now, you may remember me mentioning my friend Marco and his struggle with justifying/rationalizing his sexual urges with his strict Catholic upbringing.  This guy really struggled with girls, and usually came across as extremely creepy, which didn’t help him at all.  He did have a few girlfriends (so-so looking), but nothing that really lasted.  Marco used to mope when he got out of a relationship.  Him saying “I want to slam my dick in a locker/car door,” was an indication that his latest relationship ended or was just about to end.

What does my friend Marco have to do with the title of this post?  Marco succumbed to the marriage trap by his now wife.

First off, a “marriage trap” is my name for what Roissy calls “The Ultimate Shit Test“:

BEWARE the classic gun-to-the-head marriage pressure administered by your typical non-descript [sic], rudderless late 20′s/early 30′s woman.

When a woman pressures you mercilessly to marry her, bullying to the point of threatening a break up – this is the shit test of ALL shit tests. Treat it as such – If you fail this shit test, you are RUINED. FOR…LIFE..

Basically, a girl you’ve been dating for a while gives you an ultimatum along the lines of “put a ring on my finger, or I walk.”  Essentially you get put into a no-win situation, where either choice you make loses the girl:

  • You buy a ring and propose, she subconsciously declares you weak (shit test failed), undercuts you over time (balls in her purse), and with possible divorce later on.  End result:  You’re miserable (and possibly single)
  • You won’t be pressured and say “hit the bricks”  The girl leaves.  End result:  You’re single (and possibly miserable).

———–

I’m not too sure on the details, since I was MIA for awhile due to my heavy college course-load and part-time job, but Marco ended up meeting and dating this girl he met through some extended social circle link.  I didn’t actually meet her until they’ve been dating for about a year or so.  She wasn’t spectacular looks-wise (a plain-jane 5), thin frame, small tits, blue eyes, brown hair with fair skin.  Honestly, the type of girl who a guy like Marco could get.

Something about her, just seemed…off.  She was overly reserved and composed when we all were out together having a good time and getting a little drunk-rowdy.

Now, I’m a fairly stoic guy, and for me to raise an eyebrow at this forced composure says something.  A red flag shot up, but I kept my mouth shut since it really wasn’t my business (although later Paolo’s wife told me she felt some similar “weirdness,” that “something was off” when interacting with her).

Honestly, I can’t even recall a time where she was either tipsy/drunk or looking like she was having a good time.  Additionally, she wasn’t too keen that Giacomo, Paolo and myself would basically let Marco have a good time when out, even if he wasn’t totally intoxicated at the end.

Again, I didn’t really see these guys a lot, and with me preparing to move down to North Carolina for grad school didn’t let me pass full judgement on her.

Fast forward a few years.

I find out through Facebook that Marco and this girl got engaged.  The wedding date was set for two years later.  I was happy for Marco, and looked forward to the coming open bar and party.

———–

The day of the wedding

Sitting in the church next to Paolo’s wife (my “date” since Paolo was a groomsman), I commented on the girl’s forced smile as she was walking to the altar during the processional.

Beppo (whispering):  “Look at her smile, it looks as if she doesn’t want to be here.  That doesn’t look good.”

Paolo’s Wife (whispering):  “Oh my God, I see that! (frowns)  Just be glad it isn’t you up there.”

Beppo (whispering):  “Oh boy, this can’t bode well for the future.”

The reception later on was a blast, with the only down point being that the promised “top shelf open bar” wasn’t top self at all.  I still got my fill of whiskey in the form of so-so Manhattans.

Note:  She also dropped an “I’m not taking your name” about a week before the wedding.  Neither of them wants kids either.

———–

About a year later I was visiting my parents for the weekend and caught up with Giacomo and Paolo at a local South Buffalo Irish bar.

Beppo:  “Where’s Marco?  I thought he was coming?”

Giacomo:  “Yeah, about that…”

Giacomo and Paolo then filled me in on the details.  Apparently, Marco’s wife cheated on him with one of her coworkers and they were currently going through marriage counseling.  They hadn’t even been married for a full year yet.

Beppo:  “And why isn’t he serving her with papers?  The Church would probably even grant an annulment, unless “adultery” doesn’t count anymore.”

Paolo (shaking head):  “He said he wants to work it out with her.”

Giacomo:  “You think that’s bad, well check this…”

About two weeks previous to our meeting, Marco gave Giacomo a call one night asking if he was home.  He said yes and Marco said he’d be stopping over shortly.  An hour later Marco shows up at Giacomo’s dressed up like he just came from an office party.

Giacomo (puzzled):  “Where’s your car?”

Marco:  “I walked here from [Banquet Hall].”

This place was two miles away from where Giacomo lived.  The fact that he walked over on a not-so-well lit street at night said that something was wrong.  Giacomo had Marco come inside.  Marco opened up about what was the problem after they smoked some pot and had a few beers.

Earlier that evening at the party, Marco told his wife that he still wanted to be with her even if they were going through some rough times, and that he loved her very much.

Her response:  “Well, I don’t know if I can say the same.”

Marco turned around and left.

Can you blame the guy for wanting to walk two miles to a friend’s house after hearing something as crushing as that?

The kicker is that they’re still together.

———–

Marco got really weird after this.  He first got all hardcore into nutrition and health.  Then came the overemphasis on training and fitness to the point of psychosis.  Next he (with the wife) started to do half-marathons and full-marathons, then moving up to ironman-type races.  He also started smoking A LOT of pot.

I’m not even counting the number of times he’s blown me off when I’m visiting Buffalo.  Enough times where I don’t even bother trying to contact him when I’m in Buffalo.  Even Giacomo and Paolo don’t see him that much.

The fact of the matter is that Marco was and is miserable, which is pretty fucking sad if you think about it.

All because he fell into a marriage trap.

Be aware of the trap so you don’t make the same mistake my friend Marco did.

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