Why work

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So I worked for 30 years to build an asset I could leave to my wife if I died, so she'd be solid and safe.

Her dad screwed her mom over—left her in debt when he passed—so I thought I was being a good guy. I was proud of myself—hubris I know—and proud of an "us"that was a fallacy in my mind only.

She dumped me a bunch of years ago. She doesn't understand money and didn't give a shit about me.

Remind me of the last time you offered me an unsolicited kindness? Never? Is that accurate?  Remember that inept trans couples counselor you dragged in?  Total fraud. And how you showed up for the sessions dressed up for dates with your lovers?  

Why did I do that to myself? What a fucking moron I am. Now I don't have heirs and I'll die alone.

Fuck me!  And while I’m at it, screw you too. You’re not capable of joy or pleasure.  That’s a comfort to me. 

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