He slapped the ass of this career ridden whore – still firm. Of course he knew the truth, she’d be digging this way of life until she was around 32 at which point she would realize the futility of her efforts and how she’s been drowning in false self-aggrandizement all her life, realize her meandering maze of a career she’s just not cut out for and that she’d better be off knocked up and learning practical skills like knowing when to keep your mouth shut. But of course he didn’t say any of that. Not because he particularly cared about hurting her feelings, he thought there’s still some milk in this cow — no need to drive it away. Besides, it wasn’t just women, he hadn’t met a male in 10 years who was as in touch with reality as himself and saw things for what they were. Ironically, these women who plastered motivational messages all over their Facebrag walls and offices were the biggest sluts swimming in nihilistic hedonism, but of course he didn’t say that either. Why throw in a ladder to a woman digging her own grave, people had their own priorities.
He chuckled at that aphorism. He should be a motivational speaker or something, he’d be good at it too and probably less fake than 99% of these grandiose oversize-suit wearing motherfuckers belching out truisms like nobody’s business. But again, he’d rather everyone dug in a little in deeper rather than realize they were all already standing knee-deep in filth. He was sure that not too many people were even aware of just how judgmental they were without even trying. Love and let live was a first level cliche and he avoided those like the plague. Even second level cliches like knowing about the first level and talking out loud about it was to be avoided. It wasn’t until you got to third level and above that you were now is safe territory away from the mediocrities chewing at your self-esteem from below.
Some new neighbors who had moved in recently reminded him of another couple he used to know. They were up and coming yuppies who fueled their mutual love of sunsets with crack balls the size of penguin eggs. That was only during some weekends you see. On others, they occasionally attended swingers parties where his partner- they weren’t quite married since their careers were in different places and bequeathment of approval from the government felt oh so dirty- was used as a batter’s box for the multitude of jocks present, some of which had multiple swings at her. The rest of the week was of course reserved for piano lessons, recitals, the opera and dinners at Michelin-stared restaurants. You had to give it to these yuppies, they lived as if every action was presupposed on a greater ideal, even their debauchery was first rate. When they cut loose they didn’t escape like the middle classes, they regressed to an animalistic pre-homo sapiens form so you had to give them credit because you can’t teach this shit and yet here they were, Hermes and Herpes living in perfect harmony.