The Sockless Rich

The Sockless Rich





My wife and I made friends with a couple, the husband a decent well meaning man who perhaps pushes the threshold of parental discipline than I would like, and his bleach blonde slave to the treadmill social climbing counterpart. They don’t quite fit in, but they are desperate to. So we’ve been hanging out with them for the last year, and it has been nothing short of uncomfortable. But since we don’t fit in, we had something in common, or so we thought. Since my wife told her “friend” of our separation, she is understandably conflicted as to how to proceed. She has not returned my wife’s calls.
And I know why.
Married people see couples that separate become liberated in some way, they grow from the truth, and survive, and most importantly, thrive. The statistics prove me out. A stagnant marriage exists in the womb of denial. And unfortunately, no marriage is immune to stagnation; indeed, it is the nature of the beast. And make no mistake; marriage is a beast that will not stop until it has consumed truth. And so, the ones brave enough to sound the alarm, that there is indeed a fire, a fire ignited by contempt bred from familiarity and sustained by fear of change, and those couples who question the feasibility of marriage are pariahs , a threat to the status quo. Most who are married are unhappy, within the context of passion, change, growth, self renewal , and they all live in fear of admitting this, and when two married couples who related to each other in the fraud of marital bliss, and one of them jumps up out of the cocktail couch and shouts, No, there must be more! This truth becomes a virus, that is feared and reviled, and the couple that chooses the path of denial and mediocrity are terrified that this virus will infect them. Perhaps if a separation paid better and got us a table at L’Escale my wife would be worthy of support. But our separation and pursuit of personal growth and happiness threatens the robots, and so they make some beeping sounds, turn on their Jimmy Chow heels, and walk longingly towards the promise of more money, more house, a better blackberry , the new Audi , and an invitation to a proper country club where they can touch the hand of God, or, in their case, rub not elbows but ankles with the sockless rich.