My Wife Left Me, and It’s All the Millennials’ Fault
Two weeks ago, in the midst of one of the worst heat waves in recent memory, she had had enough. After 30 years of marriage, my beautiful wife, Helen, walked out the front door and out of my life for good. She was the only good thing in a life that’s never gone the way I planned it, and now she’s gone, and she took my dog Rover with her, and it’s all the millennials’ fault.
I guess it’s not totally surprising. First they ruined the Olympics, then they ruined the concept of vacation, I guess it was only a matter of time before they ruined the sacred union between a mid-level office manager who doesn’t know how to use Facebook and his wife. That inevitability doesn’t lessen the sting. It still feels as though there’s a jellyfish around my heart, and the only salving urine is the love of a woman who is never coming back.
What did I do to deserve this? How many men like me, men who had older cousins who fought to keep this country free from the Vietnamese menace and who were able to scrap and claw for jobs in a boom economy created for us by demographic luck, have been left lonesome and broken by women whose minds have been poisoned by millennials’ tendency to look at their phones a lot? Why did they do this to me?
How is it possible that, even stepping into a saturated job market in a bad economy and carrying with them tens of thousands of dollars of student debt, a generation of men and women who use Uber and take selfies sometimes has found the spare time to pry Helen from my tepid embrace? That their support of marriage for everyone, even gays and mixed-race couples, weakened the institution to the point that my marriage specifically has slowly dissolved for over two decades? That they’ve makiciouslt left me with only a house I was able to easily pay for on an entry level salary and a 17 year old son who looks like my best friend Eric and refuses to call me “dad”?
I believe the problem is that millennials have made me and guys like me seem too manly, and that it intimidated Helen, causing her to flee. No generation has ever drank or smoked less. They play a game called “Pokemon Go,” which my friend from the bar, Bartender Eric, assures me is for nerds. They think concussions in football are bad, and that the most pansy of all sports, soccer, is good. They think women can have orgasms for Christ sake! When young people, who we for some reason kept letting be the purveyors of what’s “cool” even after I stopped being young, think all that lame geeky wuss stuff is “cool,” what chance does a beefy borderline alcoholic with a barely functioning penis stand?
I think there’s only one thing I can do to bring Helen back. I need to be the hero she thought she married the night I met her in a Las Vegas club and pretended to be a Wall Street big shot. We live in an America where being a nerd is considered a good thing, but if I do my part and vote for President Trump, he has a chance to bring up back the days when men were men and women were seen and not heard, like in Mad Men times.
Granted, I was barely alive and conscious then but I watched the show and there weren’t any millenials in it, and that guy with the big dick and strong jawline was always drunk and had a couple wives and people wanted to be like him. By knowing absolutely nothing about being president, I think in four years time President Trump can make our nation regress 50 years in women’s rights, race relations, and the idea of what’s acceptable behavior for men. Maybe that will scare all the millenials into following through on their threats to move to Canada so they can ruin hockey and maple syrup instead of football and racism. Maybe that will break the spell they’ve cast on my sweet, innocent wife Helen.
My only regret is that President Trump and his campaign to Make America Safe for Men Again didn’t come along sooner. Helen hasn’t had sex with me in almost 24 years (our son was a virgin birth), so the spell must have started promptly when the first millennial was born.