@DoubleD
These men whisper of love, of companionship, yet their choices betray a masochism I scarce comprehend. To court a single mother—be she widowed or divorced—is to embrace a burden clad in the guise of virtue. And what distinction do they draw, these fools, between the widow and the cast-off bride? None exists worthy of note.
@DoubleD
The method of her solitude matters not; the weight of her existence remains unchanged. Whether her mate lies cold in the earth or walks free among the living, the yoke she bears is the same—a chain forged not of iron, but of obligation and regret.
@DoubleD
And what man, possessed of reason, would willingly bind himself to such a creature? To step into the shadow of another’s legacy, to shoulder the detritus of a life not his own? The widow offers no purity, the divorcee no absolution—both are marred by the same indelible truth: they are no longer whole, no longer free. Their children, those mewling leeches, drain time, gold, and vitality, leaving naught but scraps for the suitor foolish enough to linger
@DoubleD
I see no nobility in this sacrifice, no honor in this servitude.
Avoid them, I say—shun them as one shuns a plague-ridden corpse. Let the widows weep alone, let the divorced languish in their liberty. A single mother, by any path she treads, is a vortex of need, a sinkhole of lost potential. I declare this truth: to entangle oneself with such a soul is to court ruin. Let them stand as monuments to their own fates—untouched, unclaimed, and utterly forsaken.
Shallow, devoid of insight, inaccurate, and lacking in all style. Thankfully your post was NONE of these things, bravo!!
This line had me chuckling, it's by far the best: "A single mother, by any path she treads, is a vortex of need, a sinkhole of lost potential."
Excellent.
@DoubleD
A widow, they say, is ennobled by tragedy, her solitude thrust upon her by fate’s cruel hand. A divorced woman, they sneer, bears the stain of her own failure, her union sundered by choice or weakness. Yet I see through this veneer of judgment, this petty moral posturing. A single mother is a single mother still—her spawn cling to her skirts, her resources sapped, her spirit tethered to a past she cannot unmake.